Guadalajara Wash
published in Unstrung Magazine
the shards of liquor bottles, guised
as stones, reflect the searing sunrays
of the afternoon.
glass that is now desert,
arranged like patches on a quilt.
each shard has a density
and hue; each shard is an emblem
carrying a history of tragedy &
jubilee.
bottles that Chicano boys drink
& throw into washes, bottles of
hard liquor consumed by Yaqui boys;
bottles that break like their reflections.
broken bottles like the memories
of drunken saguaros, who drink
sunrise and vomit ashes.
they are phantoms, who don’t
know their names & who wait
for the rain to fill up the washes.
their gratitude is all this glass
on the bed of the wash,
an offering in return for
the liquor of grey skies.
a wash of desert glass is
a mirror made of these shards
reflecting the sun &
all the forgotten faces of Tucson.
© Enrique García Naranjo, 2015
the shards of liquor bottles, guised
as stones, reflect the searing sunrays
of the afternoon.
glass that is now desert,
arranged like patches on a quilt.
each shard has a density
and hue; each shard is an emblem
carrying a history of tragedy &
jubilee.
bottles that Chicano boys drink
& throw into washes, bottles of
hard liquor consumed by Yaqui boys;
bottles that break like their reflections.
broken bottles like the memories
of drunken saguaros, who drink
sunrise and vomit ashes.
they are phantoms, who don’t
know their names & who wait
for the rain to fill up the washes.
their gratitude is all this glass
on the bed of the wash,
an offering in return for
the liquor of grey skies.
a wash of desert glass is
a mirror made of these shards
reflecting the sun &
all the forgotten faces of Tucson.
© Enrique García Naranjo, 2015