Wednesday, October 31, 2012

morada

november first.

drawers holding the dead are stacked in hollow white walls. orange and purple petals fall in bunches -- liberal handfuls of paper petals cascading from the wall tops. black porous edges line the white concrete walls like singed doilies, heaven and hell, a crustaceous erosion as if the walls had risen from the sea. death is arranged neatly in rows and call numbers, labeled with five, six, sometimes seven names denoting kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species.

mort. mortimer. moribund. morbid. mortal. mortuary.

the dish of the day is a purple pudding: colada morada. making it at home is bad luck. one must wait to be invited to share a glass and spoon with neighbors, where the orphan pudding lacks any known origin but exists, just the same, for the deserving.

quietude. reverence. sunday best. no fun-size butterfingers or porch brujas fueled by duracel. in ecuador, death inspires superstition, more drugstore marias on the the dashboard. white walls and snowing petals, drawers containing abandoned ships.

 

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