Esteban Rodríguez
53 El arpa
Like your father, your mother
never speaks of her crossing,
so you invent a narrative for her,
switch the river for a desert,
add a scene with carrion and carcasses,
with cactuses adorned with torn shirts,
jeans, bras and underwear, and on some,
black and white photographs of people
you mother once knew, but whose names
now, as she weaves farther in,
she can’t remember, and which she forgets
about all together when she sees seated
at a distance a woman playing a harp.
And you could say she was naked,
or you could have her dressed in a white,
glowing garment, but you know
from what you know of your mother
that what this lady was or wasn’t wearing
doesn’t matter, just the melody coming
from her harp, the way the music
lulled her in, said this was where
she was supposed to be, and reassured her
that as she trudged on, imagined the land
on the other side, she knew she could believe
in something she didn’t have to see.
Esteban Rodríguez is the author of the collections Dusk & Dust, Crash Course, In Bloom, (Dis)placement, and The Valley. He is the Interviews Editor at the EcoTheo Review, an Assistant Poetry Editor at AGNI, and a regular reviews contributor to [PANK] and Heavy Feather Review. He lives with his family in Austin, Texas.
Return to September 2020 Edition
Like your father, your mother
never speaks of her crossing,
so you invent a narrative for her,
switch the river for a desert,
add a scene with carrion and carcasses,
with cactuses adorned with torn shirts,
jeans, bras and underwear, and on some,
black and white photographs of people
you mother once knew, but whose names
now, as she weaves farther in,
she can’t remember, and which she forgets
about all together when she sees seated
at a distance a woman playing a harp.
And you could say she was naked,
or you could have her dressed in a white,
glowing garment, but you know
from what you know of your mother
that what this lady was or wasn’t wearing
doesn’t matter, just the melody coming
from her harp, the way the music
lulled her in, said this was where
she was supposed to be, and reassured her
that as she trudged on, imagined the land
on the other side, she knew she could believe
in something she didn’t have to see.
Esteban Rodríguez is the author of the collections Dusk & Dust, Crash Course, In Bloom, (Dis)placement, and The Valley. He is the Interviews Editor at the EcoTheo Review, an Assistant Poetry Editor at AGNI, and a regular reviews contributor to [PANK] and Heavy Feather Review. He lives with his family in Austin, Texas.
Return to September 2020 Edition