Arrows

excerpt

I asked her name. Yulema. She was patient with my stammering
efforts to communicate. Clearly she was another Indian who spoke
another language that was related to the Cumanagoto that Tamanoa
spoke. I tried to make her understand I wanted to know where we
were. We could be in the outskirts of the valley of San Francisco, for
all I knew. The native words or names she told me meant nothing.
Yulema motioned toward a bundle resting on the floor against
the wall of the cave. She went to fetch it. I looked away from her
nakedness as she bent down to pick it up. I knew I would never get
used to naked women.
She was small, but she shook out the wild cotton hammock for me
to see, holding it up in the air. With hand gestures, and by spreading
out the hammock, she made me understand that Apacuana had
lifted me into the hammock and brought me to this cave. Apacuana
was tall for a woman, with catlike grace that bespoke her wild
strength, but I wondered if she alone had the strength to carry me.
Though I had seen many Indian women carrying impossible loads
on their backs, usually while the men went about with only their
weapons, I was skeptical at first. I was emaciated by the journey, but
I must have weighed well over a quintal, to be sure.
I had observed that women did most of the heavy work, while
men hunted, fished, built homes and weapons and went to war. In
El Tocuyo I saw a pregnant woman in the morning, then saw her
again in the afternoon, working in the field, with her newborn
hanging from her back in one of those carriers they so cleverly
devise.
I could only assume that both Yulema and Apacuana lived
nearby, probably in Chacao’s village. Unable to communicate,
Yulema and I fell silent. She retreated a little while I tried to sleep.
She seemed at peace with the world, unaware of the threat her world
faced. She drew figures in the dirt, fingered her heavy necklace and
ate some insects while others became temporary pets.
By the time I was awakened by women’s voices for a second time,
the light in the cave had grown dimmer. This time Yulema slid away
and Apacuana stayed. I was glad to see her. She knelt and stirred …

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073522

Poodie James

excerpt

Marcie returned the smile, then
splashed him, hoisted herself up the ladder and walked away.
When she looked back, he was standing in the shallow water,
watching her, smiling.
After she cleared the pool house of the last of the swimmers,
Marcie peeled off her suit, showered, and stood examining her
image in the big locker room mirror, turning from side to side,
looking over her shoulder, running her hands down her waist and
onto her hips. She liked the contrast between the tan sections and
the rest of her. She liked the chestnut hair tumbling onto her
shoulders, the firmness and upward sweep of her breasts, the balancing
swell of her behind, the flatness of her tummy, the curve of
her calves into her ankles, the length of her legs. Too bad she had
to be covered all the time, she thought. She knew there were plenty
of boys, and men, too, who wanted to uncover her. She felt their
stares and sensed their craving. Poor things, thank goodness they
don’t know what I feel most of the time, she thought. It isn’t easy
to want what I want and live in a small town where everyone knows
everything about everyone and talks about it. In the heat and steam
of the locker room a long shiver invaded Marcie’s thighs.
She pulled on her blouse, skirt and sandals. Leaving the pool
house, she started in the direction of town. Poodie was sitting on
the edge of his wagon. She stopped and turned to look across the
lawn toward the river. Poodie joined her and took her hand. He led
her to the beginning of a trail, and they stood watching the
Columbia. The surface shimmered copper from the sun lowering
toward the Cascades. An advance guard of nighthawks swooped
low, gorging on colonies of gnats. Halfway across the river,
expelled by the churn and velocity of a deep eddy, a log heaved out
of the water. It flopped onto the surface with a crash that she could
hear 150 yards away and floated for a few seconds before the
unseen power of the river pulled it under. Marcie looked back.
There were no other people. All of the cars were gone. The sun
balanced like a coin on the roof of the ice plant across the road. The
old shamble of a building was a deep silhouette.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08W7SHCMV

Impulses

Unobserved
The unobserved specks blow by
stay anonymous
while drinking coffee in the morning
not fathom its meaning like
some innocence in
your kiss remains unnoticed
like hand touching pencil shaft
while you record reverently
but when you idle mesmerized
by a moon distraught
sensation aroused
racks you
or refreshes delight
of crafting poem

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073565