Tecoman, Colima: Year 2006
Wide-faced baby still crossing her legs,
Shivering inside her own mother’s womb,
Her parts stay hidden from the ultrasound’s cold, metal screening,
Warm pool of darkness heating up as kicking goes wild,
Already moving through mother’s quick anger,
Already formed and already asking….
Wanting more time, wanting more time.
Mother’s eyes glow brightly, brown almonds growing wide as I am lifted,
Marveled by the sight of a brand newborn child,
Marveled by the way I squiggle through her arms,
Wanting to run, break through time’s frame,
Move like gazelles while the ground is a clump of hot cement
Buried beneath cold horizons of tar.
Here comes the sun child, born here in Colima,
Land of marine life and strong lemon trees
But time flies so fast, six months disappear,
It’s now time to leave and they pack up my things,
We’re off to a new place where workers earn more
But the jobs aren’t much different,
Just apple trees that need picking
Instead of tomatoes or limes or plantains.
Let’s drive away towards a country up North
Where they say things are better,
But the air will be dry and you won’t see much trees
Once you arrive there up North,
So just close your eyes and pretend you belong.
Sit tight and hold onto your mother’s cold hand
While the car will take care of your small, infant frame...
Young one, don’t weep, your father’s still here,
Young one, don’t weep, he’ll stay for three years.
Copyright ©
Cristal Aguilar
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