(no subject)

My grandfather is
part Amerindian, part Spanish, part Portuguese,
made of the blood of sailors and farmers.
He drinks strong coffee every morning
and rum on weekends.

He wears a cheap shirt and knitted cap
in the picture. He is pointing
away across a vale of forest
and sunlight falls on him and his outstretched arm,
illuminating his dingy shirt and cap and
the machete strapped to his shoulder
his face, I know, is brown and lined
he is looking away across the forest
but I can see him.