"I come home to Maria
where else would I go?
Across the river
to die by myself
down in old Mexico?"
The Border

Roses in the Coal Mine

They don't race horses
on St. Patrick's
Day anymore

The padre put a stop to it
after the parishioners started
fighting
about money
in the street

Now it's just the dogs,
the rickety iron
trucks
full of corn
and cobblestone
hogs,
who smile and create
a cloud of dust when you
pet them

Children playing
soccer
in the powdered,
yellow yard,
kicking up
clouds of brown & yellow
light,
orange & lemons
rising

I ask Mario
if he's seen the powdered Volvo,
the European street-frigate
with license plates
from Mars

He wiped the motor
oil
from his mouth,
and said he hadn't seen it,
but that the engine was
delicious

And so we sat in front
of the tienda and lamented
the roses in the coal mine,
the lack of horse
races on St. Patrick's Day

I told him about the Rapture,
and he marveled at
the horror of the clouds,
the gothic cathedrals of rain
rising over the city,
alight with crazy
fire

And then an animated robe of Catholic
importance
descended the stairs
of the church,
completely unaware of, or perhaps
feeding on,
the naked soul trapped
in the folds of
the cold,
infernal cloak

She approached us and smiled
like an underground
garden, or
a raincloud of fire,
and pointed up to the sky

¿Por qué hay rosas en la mina de carbón?

She asked,
with a voice like lilac
rain
falling
on a whistling
piano

Why are there roses in the coal mine?

Pertenecen al jardín

They belong in the garden

Me and Mario agreed

But, I asked
the whistling piano,

Before I cross the river
to die by my
self,

¿Qué le tienen hecho con el jardín que fue confiado a usted?

What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?

¿Y has visto el Volvo en polvo?

©Nathan Payne
March 2024