I see I will get a 
postcard from you 
Your father is planning 
to go to the market, 
I will
still need 
whenever you go to the 
butcher shop.

Found poem from an email December 13, 2017.


Behind the apartment do the dogs still bark? Do
chickens scratch around looking for
bugs? Sometimes they used to bring in a
truckload of hogs and slaughter them, the
whole family working together. Or was that
hogs rooted around and truckloads of
chickens were slaughtered?

Once or twice the ground shook. I
stood in the doorway and waited for it
to stop, afraid I’d be in the way
trying to get down the stairs and out of
the house with my bad leg, even though the
landlord added a railing.

I hope the restaurant down the street 
still serves a full breakfast of 
rice and beans with
eggs at a price I can 
afford. Three months ago I left 
on a short vacation. Now I’m
home. We all wear masks and disinfect
our hands and feet coming and going. Tomorrow I
will see about the food situation. For
now, it’s good to be home.