| Stage Fright in the Andes
Renteria and I hiked across the rills,
freshets burbling with water icier than glaciers,
moss at every turn. Sheep herd clouds browsed
over moaning shadows on the valley floor.
Our breaths were ragged down our throats,
rasped out through our mouths.
Renteria asked me what we would say
to the farmers, would we promise,
would we fake, would we lie
to save our hides?
The boulders pushed themselves up
on elbows and grinned as we walked past them
on the way to the school building half-finished.
What if there is no one there, he asked,
what if no one comes,
what if they ask us where the roof tiles are,
when the nails are coming?
We lurched upward toward the summit,
feeling our knees turn to mucilage,
our wet pants flapping on our salted legs,
our hands muddy from the climb.
What if the trees stop breathing,
what if the wind no longer comes to rest,
what if the tender shoots
which ask mercy from the sun
refuse to venture forth.
I don't know, I told Renteria,
but let's go on. |
|
Rene F Cardenas has had poetry
accepted in the Journal of the American Medical Association, Shattered Wig, Midwest
Poetry Review, and Minimus, among others. He has spent several years working in
Latin America. Currently he is working on a collection of short stories, his grandfather's
autobiography and an international cooking dictionary.
- Beauty for Ashes Poetry Review ©1996-2000
- ©A Creative Ash Publication 2000
- Isaiah 61:1-3
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