"The Castaway Bottle" by Paula Rodriguez

The Castaway Bottle

The cards told me that my mother should take care of her brittle bones, the fiddle bones in her head, her knees, the little bones in her pointing fingers. Then I saw the Viking ship, lying at the bottom of a fjord, the tamed hills surrounding it plagued with withered blades and apple trees. Its frame strong, like mussels waiting to be awakened by the tide. And thus did I discover where my brother was, for no one would tell me. The day Grandmother stopped breathing, we placed a garnet rosary around her neck, like she wanted. Then, my mother appeared with her leg in a cast and fought my aunts and uncles with her crutches because my brother was not there to protect her.

sleeping at the root
of eternal salvation—
the waves