Thursday, August 25, 2005

In my first post to the DPS blog nearly a year ago, I included three stanzas to a poem that wasn't finished but at the time there was nothing more to give. Last night I wrote the ending and it's a good feeling. It's different from anything I've ever written and I'm not sure what to make of that, but either way, I like where it's heading (because, of course, revision is the name of this game):


Abuelito will not return
to see his mother
buried in Santiago.
He already regrets

the visit two years
ago, when the mango
began to grow
under the skin of her neck.

In his nightmares, he still sees
the way her head tilted,
a forced question
no one could answer,

not even Castro’s weekly
address over the radio.
Bisabuela always sat
as though listening intently,

the fruit in her neck
begging a scapel or at least
a bottle of pills. Not even
her firstborn could work

such magic, and this knowledge
kept him traveling everywhere
but Santiago, praying for healings
across South America,

laying hands on sick
sons, touching every flesh
except flesh of his flesh.
And so the mango slowly weighed

down her body and stole
her soul, and in another land
the firstborn hung his head
to the side and cried.


Blogger ziegenhagen said...

Powerful imagery Mer. It is really effective. I too like how you finished it up. It does a good job of portraying all the proper emotions without telling us how to feel.

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