Monday, December 30, 2013

Cabrona

Thin woman wedded to this world
by charred steel wire,

they light fires, call you Flaquita.  They buy
your homemade .45 rounds

with disdain on their faces and good gold.
You are not to be told.

Your silence breaks down
the highest walls.  Whole towns fall

to that cool quiet -- what it sounds like
when you listen to them.

You hear every prayer they dare
utter at a shrine

some outlaw carved for you
in offerings of bone.

A pobrecita genuflects before your forbidden grin.
Behind her, a rangy dog stalks alone.

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