my parents pose in black & white
in a styleline convertible
their saturday drive to juarez
for tequila
& cheap newports
the place is the same
just 60 years older. peeled paint
& american factories
blight what was spoiled already
in digital color
a man spits tobacco juice
dark as liver failure piss
near my shoes, says
i’m less afraid of gangs
than police or army,
they have better guns
but that same swagger. be careful
of the eyes you meet.
my mother’s carved mexican
a souvenir, a reminder of how
she learned broken spanish
spiced with tequila, but that
was her juarez,
not this crime scene now.
he balances on my palm
neckless,
his head tilted up
& mouth stretched
to hold toothpicks
in a bristled scream
the army guns are better
says the spitter
& their colors more muted
but they all wear the same stink–
metal & blood
lipsticked on the wall
tattooed on skin. a haloed saint
weeps between the shoulder blades
of a sniper.
there are as many churches
as bars here, but how
will we worship
in juarez? humility is easy
this close to dirt, but
not faith. prayer
this breath of hands
fanned against plaster roughness
or cracked concrete
keep lying down.
if you kneel you die.
Susan Daniels Poetry 
I really like this very much. I think it is a bit confusing in the fifth stanza, but it begins and ends strong.>KB
Thanks–documentary mixed with family stories/souvenirs led to this, so I am glad it is only the fifth stanza that leaves you scratching your head.
Absolutely brilliant and that last line was a knockout.
Thank you, Julie.
I respectfully disagree with my friend KB, the fifth stanza is the best one. This is a good one, bits of angry Susan are here.
Thanks, Trent–some surreal Susan, too 😉
That’s the Susan I like the best, I must admit.
Aw, thanks! I’ll definitely let her know. Damn–I am reminded of an Avatar episode…
Really? You must tell me how so. My little boy loves that show, I mostly get confused by it.
My kids love it. Watch out for the episode with the crazy man who switches identities every minute–that is what I was reminded of.
Hmmmm, interesting. Will have to look for that one, but there are a lot of episodes! Did you see the movie? I thought it was okay, was expecting better.
Yes–I was disappointed with the movie, as I think the series is excellent.
Oh M Night, what has happened to you? Maybe he’ll recapture his form in the next one.
hope so!
An interesting departure from your recent poetry. I’m left feeling I want more to ground myself – a little more narrative certainty about what’s happening. But some strong images and a powerful ending.
P.S. I note 500 followers today – Congrats 🙂
Yahoo about the followers! Hmmm, not sure if I can thread more meat into this surreal story, but I will see what I can do…
Well, I fleshed it out a little, don’t know if it helped or hurt it…
This went on like an adventure … very well illustrated !!!
Thank you–yes, a hike in hell 😉
Very powerful; you seem to have a knack for stepping into other’s lives and cultures…keen observation. To me, the third stanza, considering the context of the poem, renders a horrific image; a man his mouth forced open, stuffed with sticks….was this intentional or accident? My favorite of yours in a while! Leo
Thanks, Leo–hmmm–I meant to present a horrific, unreal but unfortunately very real place. Yes, my little serape’d toothpick holder/carved man that used to be my mom’s was meant to be rendered as disturbingly as possible….sounds like I did it. I will have to flesh this out a little more this morning, I think.
Good ones, and particularly love ‘humility is easy
this close to dirt’.
Thanks, Nelle. That is my favorite image in this one too.
Ok, so this is a terrible thing to do, but I did it anyway. I’m offering my edit, not as better, only as my edit – to be considered / ignored or whatever you see fit. Essentially it’s just easier to say “here’s what I’d do”, than try and explain it.
For me the second draft is a pendulum too far the other way, though now I have more I am much more connected to the piece… So maybe this as a ‘middle’ way (hyphens are just to stop WP ‘auto-formatting the spaces out)… (p.s. please don’t shoot me! ;))
my parents pose in black & white
in a styleline convertible
to juarez for tequila
& cheap newports
–
the place is the same
in digital color
a man spits tobacco juice
dark as liverish piss
into the street
says “I’m less afraid of gangs
than police or army,
they have better guns
but that same swagger. be careful
of the eyes you meet.”
–
I have a souvenir from juarez
my mother’s carved man in a serape,
balanced on the flat of my palm,
head tilted up & mouth wide
to hold toothpicks
in a bristled yawn
–
she brought him home
to the el paso base
the night she drank 3 margaritas
& learned how to say por favor,
gracias & tengo dinero
–
“the army guns are better,”
the spitter says
& the colors more muted
but they wear the same stink–
–
metal & blood
lipsticked on the wall
tattooed on skin. a haloed saint
weeps between the shoulder blades
of a sniper, framed.
–
how do we worship
in juarez? humility is easy
this close to dirt, but
not faith. prayer
only breath upon hands
fanned against plaster roughness
or concrete
–
keep lying down.
if you kneel you die.
OK, we have some more fusion…
hmmm. Will not kill you for this 😉
The first draft was too sparse, the second too flat–I am going to print & compare all three and see what I come up with, doing a side by side comparison…
Thanking you much for your input!
Pleasure. I like collaborating as long as ideas dominate and not ego’s (mine can get carried away – I’m just a man after all ;))
For me there are dark and interesting connotations in the second draft – when your mum speaks, that are lost in the third. Otherwise it’s good.
🙂 thanking you again! While I like that part where my mom has a voice in Spanish, I do feel it spends too much time on my little carved man, so it had to go, although I did like it, almost as much as I like my little juarez toothpick-holder man. 😉
strong with a great ending !!
Thanks, Don!