Saturday, April 20, 2013

I remember The Snow By Amber Rose




I remember nights of playing
Watching the cold of the window as I
Blur the scene from outside with my warm breath
People sledding and laughing in the yard
A father lifts his son up in the air
He catches a snowflake with his wet tongue

A group in the distance sings a sweet song
A baby is cooing while mom holds tight
The grandmas and grandpas scurry inside
Lights draped around the houses light the sky
Tree tops turned white and the birds call this home
Shinning so bright in the cool night lite sky
Little stars twinkle and the moon sleeps on

My mother wraps arms around me gently
Pulling my grasp away from the window
I watch as the people fade from my sight
Strange faces I see only this time of year
Always greeting me with an awkward hug
Topped with a red lipstick kiss on my cheek

Joining these people my Dad calls family
Together by the tree we all fake smile  
Another family photo till next year
Everyone gathers at the big table
Mouths opened wide as they stare with their eyes
After Aunt Barb’s famous ham and turkey
I am always confused as to why we
Rip apart such magnificent wrapping

Underneath is what I asked from Santa
My heart skips a beat as I run outside
Dropping my toy as I open my mouth

-----------------------------------------------


BY JACOB SAENZ
I remember nights of playing
Lotería w/Mom & Big Manny
as a way to learn the Spanish they spoke
to each other but not to their kids
who caught on to certain words
like cállatecervezachicharrón;
little nuggets I ate up
like the pinto beans we used
instead of the blue chips
Mom kept in her Bingo bag
she carried every Friday night
when her & Tia Shirley
went to the Moose Lodge,
her hair & coat reeking
w/the smoke of all who lost.
    
I remember El Borracho,
the man always holding a bottle
& about to fall over yet never does
like Big Manny stumbling home
late at night after a payday,
breath & belly full of beer,
who one time took a piss
in our bedroom.

I remember La Garza,
not for the heron it is
but cousin Tony & his kids,
nights of sleepovers & pizza,
PlayStation on a 40-inch TV,
the night he & Lil Jesse sneaked
bumps of coke in the bathroom
& I rubbed numb my teenage teeth.

I remember El Musico,
not the chubby man clutching his guitarra
but my brother Dave loading crates
of records & a dual turntable case
like a coffin into the back of a van,
the same set I hit my back on at ten
when I fell out of the top bunk bed.

But I prefer to remember La Sirena
back when her breasts were free
of the seashells she now holds
to cover them in water so blue
cold, her scales so red,
her name clung to the tongue
like dulce de leche.

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