THE RIBS OF MILAGRO copyright by Michael Forbus Miguel knew he was in trouble when his vessel, Milagro, hit the coral ridge. The boat he had built with his father sunk to the sand in seconds. He was able to salvage a small bit of tack and a keg of Barbados Rhum. A line or two and some canvas for covering at night he was able to salvage. Oh yes and the nugget of Green Apple Jade from another voyage. His lucky Jade. He still had joss with the Jade. He was now so bewildered. He had a disagreement with the Jade Princess before sun that morning about his liking the firey rum too much. She told him, Miguel, I just want you here awake with me, not asleep with the keg. His argument was that he had enough pain and that gave him relief. She left him go on the water with no hug, no kiss and he with his head hard like a stone left with words unspoken. And now Milagro sunk. The boat his father and him had built and named after the meeting of the two. Miguel and the Jade one. As the boat sank he grabbed the keg and some tack and a large piece of Jade she had given him that her grandfather had found. He has some line and no hope. As a survivor he went to work on a shelter right away and lay out a trot line for fish. He also carved a flute from the bamboo that surrouned him and daily he called the parrots in to roost. He then began to carve the Jade into a small Buddha that he has seen in the Orient on one of his cruises. He began to drink the rum as the storm came up and he slept in a wet and beaten shack and awoke with his head on fire. No food, just tack. No cover just fronds. He began to think of the Jade one and how she wou;d worry. She did not like the sea. She thought it stole husbands from their wives. Too many fathers from their offspring. She always thought Miguelito should farm and watch plants grow and learn what it means to nourish. Miguel's ribs looked like the bones of the boat and he was forlorn. He had no life without the Jade One. Daily he carved the piece of Green Apple Jade from her grandfather and made a flute with perfect pitch. At dusk he would call all the multi-colored parrots in and he would pray to the Jade Apple Buddha to save him that he might become the man that his Queen could look up to. He began to run up the beach aimlessley and try and get his muscle tone back. He had long ago thrown the keg of Demon Rhum to the sea and vowed to be done with it. He prayed to the Green Apple Jade Buddha for one last reprise. Please Buddha, let her see me as I am now. Let her love me as she once did. When we could not take our eyes or hands off the other. I stared into her eyes looking for my own soul night after night. She read books of inspiration and metaphysics in our tiny bed and I read the Latin Poets, Neruda, Lorca, Octavio Paz, Marquez and we had the life of the rich although poor. We would take turns with the grinding of the fresh coffee beans and the other would stay in bed warm and naked until the other returned with the brew. I always sipped hers to make sure it was perfect. I knew how she like it. I remember every thing we did, the Tango late at night with no music and no one watching, the kissing until our lips were sore. The staring at each other until our eyes bled rubies. I remember most our hearts beating together so fast as one as we made love to each other as if it was our last time. It was time now. I layed down to die. My breath was leaving my body and in the Tropics I was frigid. Suddenly after it seemed like 2 decades she found me and pressed her lips on mine and blew her sweet breath into my lungs and then I knew she was as much a part of me as the very air I breathe. Written by Miguel for the Jade one