Birthday Fish

I'm late for my meeting on the mainland. I ask for forgiveness.It is granted yet a finger points to wrist. Eneas has aged.Black hair flecked with metal. He no longer roams the avenues with evangelists.New employment     a check every two weeks. I tell him it is my birthday. But I don'thave any fish. Rain hits the roof in anchors. We are the same age in an old city wherecrowds carry themselves lean     shoeless. At the house     his sisters live upstairs.The pit bull holds Eneas's leg as if to say     stay     look at me.I'm lonely as dust. We drink soda in steel cups     eat crackers from a chippedplate as his stepson plays video games. The brown tiles are cracked     scorched earth.The kitchen table is bare other than one lime     a doily white as teeth. His motherdrops a bag of onions on the table. I'm introduced     kissed on eithercheek     Parabéns pelo seu aniversario. I shower     offered a clean shirt     jeans.Red onions burn her eyes. Their skins crushed to confetti     wings of insectswith minutes to live. A knock     hand     arm through wrought irondoor     a plastic sack of shrimp. She peels shells     removes long veins.I want to help but she doesn't let me. Rest     tell my son how to seethe world     how to break into it without rocks. I'm perplexedin that house where ipe roots disturb walls     over dyed cloth covers windows.What do I know of this? Each day     a rock thrown     arms stronger. He alreadyunderstands the fight     the strength he must have just to be. His shadowlike some being     extinct. Happy birthday     my friend.Your daughters bring a plate of cubed beets     a bowl of rice     lettuceslivered to blades. You ask me to sit. I'm alone at the tableas you spoon stew in my plate. I wish you'd tell me of your yearin Alabama     the two babies     not your own who fed from your breasts.What was that like? Traveling with a moneyed familyacross seas     yours in a house in pieces.