Malacampa

A vacation spent
hearing family wish death
on blood relatives
for pesos and pride,
and bad winds swirl from nowhere,
the dead dishonored.

“She was the richest?”
"That’s right – but then she gave it
to people like you"

Peace alights, dove-like,
in evening cool, as we sip
brew to let loose love.
Five-ace hands bewitch
and, hearing how carabao
brained Uncle good,
laughter, sweet laughter,
fills the house with a strange good -
or at least a trace.