One Hundred Years of Solitude

Remedios in the soporific air
of two in the afternoon,
Remedios in the soft breath of
the roses, Remedios in the
water-clock secrets of the
moths, Remedios in the
steaming morning bread,
Remedios everywhere and
Remedios forever. Rebeca
waited for her love at four in
the afternoon, embroidering
by the window. She knew
that the mailmans mule
arrived only every two weeks,