Sunday Poem

Caju Rain
Marcia Theophilo

Is it raining? It's raining caju:
soft waves of vermillon and yellow.
When Itajuba attracts a variety of trills, warbles
and other sounds
with trumpets, whistles and trocanos
we shall hug each other, Kuambu.
It's caju time, juice everywhere
fruits falling into our arms
in the month of September
Is it raining? It's raining caju.
In October the chestnut eyes
in your mouth, you feel my breasts
in your hands, downpours of love
flow of the river, fertility
of soil and of women, is it raining?
Caju rain invades your body
your blood, fire running
down your throat, rhythm in your hands.
"This is a little hammock"
and we'll remember
the Kaapos, the Tukanos
the Mundurukus, the Tupinambas
of the past.
Even the highest fruits are falling
at your feet, waterfall echoes
and juice are running on your lips
Is it raining? It's raining caju.