Poem October 7, 2002 Issue

Reunion

Bettie Gray

This time the road home to Texas
thunders through clouds, and ends as a runway bordered
by fields of wild Mexican primroses and Indian paintbrush
The sky has the starring role in every Texas tale.
It is never mistaken for anything else.

With one hand on the radio knob,
I steer the straight familiar Dallas streets,
searching for music. Every fifth radio station
speaks or sings in Spanish. ¿Dónde está mi corazón?
For this I need no translation.

On Thursday, I rock and sing by the toy Lego Indian village my sister
assembled to make me feel at home. Her tiny grandson
sleeps across my lap dozing to the drumbeat of my heart.

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