I’m proud of this piece. More specifically, I’m proud of the patience to finally wait it out. For many years, I didn’t understand what it was about, and finally after 30 years when I did, the language felt forced and it still didn’t capture what I was looking for. When I caught our reflection in the bus window, I knew it was done.
Although 30+ years does has a price. The political discourse and cosmology feels dated, limiting it’s relevance. With that said, I still think it still has value.
charcoals and sketchbook on my lap on the bus ala universidad we pass her out back before the afternoon rains
a cross of weathered board and nails suspending line and laundry above hard-packed dust
clothespins braced between her fingers and teeth struggling against billowing sheets arms raised overhead gathering bedding gust, snap — la fe gust, snap — la dignidad gust, snap — la lucha
mi compañera next to me struggle, why do we push struggle I don’t know why do they always sell faith setting down my stick I rub the tips of my blackened fingers catching our reflection, I laugh I guess we’re left with dignity
then the wind shifts through her loose strands of pelo and floral frock gust, snap praising, surrendering or hanging wash