We heard there was something going on
down in the valley, but it meant nothing to us.
There was always something going on
down in one of the valleys and rumors sifted up
like bones in a funeral mound. On that particular day
I remember our robes seemed brighter
and several women were seen out washing their hair—
lining up by the cistern, drawing cups of rainwater
in the rain. Our food arrived by the usual
village boy; his left arm was withered and for this
his mother considered him holy and dedicated
him to us twice daily with sweet rice and a little bit
of whatever the fields were yielding. Early
through the mizzen shrouds of morning an elder came,
concerned a new dish introduced at the café
would corrupt the minds of the young,
something made of egg and small bits of meat
the owner invented from a story told by a man
with a beard and a mule pack strapped to his back.
We prayed.