Hello readers! Every week, the BOA staff shares one of our favorite poems from our over 300 collections of poetry. This week's poem is from Ray Gonzalez's Beautiful Wall, which poet Roy G. Guzmán recently praised as Gonzalez's best work.
These are the double seasons of loss, the horizon
where red mountains are old sunsets, the empty truck
swirling down the dirt road, heavy with outlawed cargo.
These are the days of ceremony and holy thoughts,
communion in abandoned churches where horses
and men were destroyed long ago, a legend still untold.
There are two tracks in the sand, one leading north
and one disappearing at the razor wire, graffiti
running down the locked doors, the sound of a lone
whistle shattering the air with the cry to go.
These are guesses and the eternal wish for time,
other desires painting forests on ocean floors.
These are the months of difference,
the begging women chipping away at houses,
hands gripping windows to rescue the dead as they
ask for a prayer without exposing one breast or feeding
the starving dog dropping on the black porch.
These are the double seasons of love and cut flowers,
pollen covering statues of the unknown, buried
family breathing the dusty wind and sleeping as if
two growing seasons, minus the harvests,
are enough to love the earth at any cost.
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