duration
by Steven Alvarez
ray of sun shines directly into her hands
& to my lens
drops of rain stick
mudslides radio sd
winding roads through rolling mountains
& yes her hands
green algae in fish tank behind her neon
cactus paddles outside window beyond table
textured oil images on pastel walls
rich in lime & lemon hues
she picked up her nachos
purchased by yrs truly from some corporate
chain w/ fresco something in its name
& this might have been the last
smile I remember from her
her eyes closed her wheelchair
right up to that oak table one hand
at her mouth with a tortilla chip covered
in scallions & sour cream
her left hand in her lap
soft diagonals of jutting light
& her in her room
grimaced less light but bar of light
to her hands & to my lens
& I think maybe that light her father who died two months prior
or maybe her mother
or maybe our grandfather
or maybe her grandmother
or maybe my grandmother
& then down my gaze to her chair’s wheels’
shadows surrounded darkness & skeletons
of spokes casting something mysterious
& shine to my lens yes shine
her darkness for she disappeared to death
in this shot spoken softly away
in three ways wheels intersecting
tears statues shed tears hard ones
torn faces & holes fill all abjections
torn rusted broken tears
shed & hard shadows & outside
bluest sky after hardest rain
see rain fell mostly hard
& from inside heard as hard
noted as rough
& outside banners waved
frayed edges of woven spirits strung together
this garden of light & fire this day emerged
& she worsened w my father
in her room as I wandered this garden
of light for photos & to understand
something abt death in this universe
& fat pomegranates reflected white sun
& drops of rain ran down fat globs
of light dripped down to earth
& in each drop suspended at its
apex before falling I thought that’s
duration right there
& over yonder fountains splashed water
shining sun for my delight
as I thought again yet back to Gloria
worsening inside
& oranges for Gloria to eat I gathered
gracefully offered
to which she gracefully responded
no gracias primo mio
Santa Barbara, California: 13 January 2010
Steven Alvarez is the author of the novels in verse The Pocho Codex (2011) and The Xicano Genome (2013), both published by Editorial Paroxismo. He has also authored two chapbooks, Six Poems from the Codex Mojaodicus (2014, winner of the Seven Kitchens Press Rane Arroyo Poetry Prize) and Un/documented, Kentucky (2016, winner of the Rusty Toque Chapbook Prize). His work has appeared in the Best Experimental Writing (BAX), Berkeley Poetry Review, The Drunken Boat, Fence, Huizache, and Waxwing.
“Because We Come from Everything: Poetry & Migration” is the first public offering of the newly formed Poetry Coalition—twenty-two organizations dedicated to working together to promote the value poets bring to our culture and communities, as well as the important contributions poetry makes in the lives of people of all ages and backgrounds. Coalition member Letras Latinas at Notre Dame’s Institute for Latino Studies has partnered with the Best American Poetry blog to present ten poems in March that engage with this year’s theme, which borrows a line from U.S. Poet Laureate Juan Felipe Herrera’s poem, “Borderbus.” The poems in this project were curated by Francisco Aragón & Emma Trelles.