7.30.2014

La Pared

La Pared


They are not gone, they are on bricks
    beneath plaster, beneath paint,
       beneath posters and handbills fragile
as snakeskin
abandoned to the sun and wind,
beneath the stenciled telephone, a face
   "Jesús, el teléfono del diablo"
                                        "Mexico, poco real"
and startled black figures suspended
                                        in a running tumble
past creeping vines turning
         what was once a wall
into a crumbling spine
            blackened by the repeating,
                                   always humid afternoon.

When the day is done I open my window to the street
stir my brush into the sleeping paint and begin again.



asha