Dear Death—
You look like the way my momma
felt dealing with a deadbeat man you look
like my dogwood haired abuelita
and broken like when you took her eldest
You look like trash
You look like the conversation never
wanting to be had
to take someone’s last breath you look like us!
If it’s my happiness you want
Te lo juro this back was built to bend!
This is a joke. My life that is. This take
and take relationship I have with you.
I practice for you
the wonderful life is through the decayed
beyond varicose veins marking the old trite
walls of our bodies there are many ways
but you must remember: explore your gaze
the aromas filling your line of eye
Like cannon fire
I practice for you how to say goodbye
Though you never asked
should know a few things about this rosary
on my wrist: it was a gift from the kin
a reminder of the strength of those women
I can’t lead you in prayer but I sin
with the best of them red hue against my skin
this keepsake and the steel in my bag
tucked away in pockets I never had
I have been far too often to this grave
I know its coordinates and its curves
I know all its grooves and all its trinkets
from the seat of a 7-forty se-
ven (a ver esta tumba
I can spot the grave from miles away
I want to be buried and remembered
revisited and recelebrated
I’m not fully convinced
tombstone grave mark me make me taller less
grandiose
from the piedras which all tried to break me
choose palabras to grace my new body
throw a picture in the middle so you
won’t forget my old face
a place to sit when you come visit me
I will make reservations
before my departure a wine and dine
establishment
choice) I will arrive heavy footed
and lighter than ever
under the name Bañuelos my table
for one
remember: the devil’s in the details
Click here to read Julián Bañuelos on the origin of the poems.
Image: photo by Jayden Brand on Unsplash, licensed under CC 2.0.
- Letter to the Doomed - January 10, 2023