By DOLORS MIQUEL
Translated by MARY ANN NEWMAN

Sparrowhearts 

The women of my family family 
hunted hunted birds, sparrows, birds, sparrows, and they made them sing
sing day in day out day in day out day in as the pots boiled, inner courtyards 
wide open,  
washtubs soaked old naked motheaten watery 
          unrinsed firstwashed clothes 
and the windows opened, gave birth, opened 
so beauty would regale them with songs and flowers and flowers and songs, 
buzzing, zigzagging, chirping, whispering,  
not understanding that they understood nothing. Nothing at all.