Road to Pucalá

Elms on both sides of the road

celebrate my arrival

in Silence

The scent of molasses

mixing with the dirt

reminds me

all things must pass:

Mother

and her horses

and her infinite sadness

I was born in this very place

surrounded by rivers, guns

and whores.

I even killed a man

He was known as Farra

No money, no whores involved

I was just a child.

Twenty years have passed

Only God knows how many dreams.

Mother has parted

leaving behind nothing but

sadness.

Pucalá embraces me

mysterious and exuberant

I would like to know if

Death for me is here.

2
favs

853 views
2 comments

The author has not attached a note to this story.

Steven Gowin, Feb 21, 2013

I like this very much.

I was born in this very place
surrounded by rivers, guns
and whores.

Carol Reid, Feb 21, 2013

That "scent of molasses", that heavy sweet dusty scent, perfect here. Pervasive.

I enjoyed the weight of these lines.

Interesting spellings,"misterious" and "exhuberant".

You must log in to post comments.