Ana Rodriguez Machado

of a man who fixes pools

of a man who fixes pools and sells melcocha
on the beach, of a man who rides his bike up and down hills
to bring boiled fabric diapers to the hospital,
who counted cash under the mattress in the dark while you
put the baby to sleep, of a man who built a bunk bed out of ladders
and scrap paper and who still says he’s sorry
for letting the tires of the motorcycle skid that afternoon,
of a man who fixes pools after all the food is
gone you can only say he must love his
wife and daughter enough
to swim through fire and
keep coming
home.