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Alejandro Murguia Page 3
Trastevere
Sunday
In
the plaza of Santa Maria de Trastevere
the wailing woman dressed in black
hunched over her begging basket
feet twisted backwards
sends a heart-rendering plea
to
a God that is deaf
while tourists fan themselves in cafés
and the sun scorches the cobblestones
oily and black
with a hundred decades grief and poverty
that a coin dropped in her hand
cannot erase
and what government sends
grandmothers to beg in the sun
burning the skin from the flesh
A Poem for my Hat
—for Jack Hirschman and
Agneta Faulk
In memory of Roque Dalton
Today I want to wear a hat
step out on my porch
in
a friendly floppy one
and wave hello to the
world
Or
maybe a mysterious fedora, brim down low
I’d investigate the missing
Brown Buffalo
Perhaps a Greek fisherman’s
hat—a song to the briny deep—
the sirens and mermaids at my
shoulder rocking me
Oh
a big old Mexican sombrero would do
with silver thread along the edge
that will hurt because of you
A
tropical white Panama, woven by hundred-year old hands
with a parrot feather on the band
and I’ll dance some slick mambos
I
could create a krazy kat hat with ballons and milagritos
on
the crown and stroll down Mission Street
leading a lobster on a leash
I could style a brown
beret—cocked over angry eyebrow
and shout Power to the People
and other slogans I forget
Maybe I’ll try a cloud with a
blue ribbon
wrapped around it like a song
Or none of that—
Today I’m going to wear the sky as my hat
and then I’ll pass it on to
you
so you can wear it too
© Copyright, 2013,
Alejandro Murguia. |