Poem: Walnut Hulls by Mark Tulin

First published in The Magnolia Review/Vol. 6, Issue 2/2021. This is the short version of the poem. During the early fifties, a young immigrant woman tries to find her way in a small California town along the Central Coast. The more extended version will be published at a later date.

~Walnut Hulls by Mark Tulin

Peeling the hull from the walnuts
blackens her hands,
hands of struggle,
hands of inequity.

Old sun browned hands
with bulging blue veins, 
hands of Aztec ancestry.

Trying to make her way,
trying to act strong,
trying to open the door
of the dancehall,

pleading, "Look at my hands,
they are black from walnut hulls.
I worked in the fiel;ds all day
Please, let me in."