Shelling the Pecans for A.A. I knew what a woman’s hand could do: shred the husk into threads, weave lips together at the seam. Rock to hard body, empire to thrust into knave—the native touch tocando música up the spine of the violin, some song of silk and gut. I knew race was a matter of degree, that inch in the face, that notice of dismissal. How to work all day at a posture, at a stance, at attention paying attention to none but the awl. . I put my hole into you, this notch between the breasts, this discovery and treason. Hembra a macho. Fixed. O defined in the still shell of history, a destiny written in the charts and lost. Lost in the unnoticed memories of you, a flicker of change, some small scrimp of light. Tu luz. Ahí allá—a la ala and the scoop. Your aguila eyes sweeping up the dawn’s desire. This night. I remember . shelling the pecans. Nothing but a bucket. No ride exceptional. Nothing but a dream to entertain us. I dreamed this moment— all the sweet meats in a risen weight going higher to the rim. The price and the pricing. I could eat what I missed or messed. Outside, the birds bending to it on a summer day. The great age of my grandmother’s banded hand weighing me down. The paper of tutelage blasting me away . at that age. Now, I still remember how to shuck, how to fetch it, how to step it. Stepping up to you, I ask. The point enters the ventricle without shattering the meat. How a woman on a good day can rip out the heart whole. . Lorna Dee Cervantes 8/25/06 music by Mana’ from “Amar es Combatir” “Bendita tu Luz” – lyrics by Fher Less