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Fernando Pérez: Territories

October 11, 2012 by PBQ

Between lips,
a dormant line,
the San Andreas fault.
Nana’s left
hand scar
gives up the chisme.

Those fists

belonged to Eas’ Los,
this side
of the Sixth

Street Bridge
over the L.A. river.
Other girls
knew she wasn’t
playin’.

Pachuco speak:

A switchblade
tucked inside

her pompadour.            A dance
at the Y,
hair grease,
distracting shine.
The stiletto in case
her man had beef.

Her dad with   Jim Beam
covijas and Broadway

gutters for pillows.
One cantina
too many.

Her mom         y          Sewing

factory and Singers
sewing machines.

This is who we are.
Before sweet
bread conchas.

Over there, on
the corner
of Whittier

and Bradshawe,
step over bolts

of lightning,
as to avoid bad luck.

The webs spiders drew
into sidewalk, give cuentos.

This scar?

Once tattoo.
Once initials
of an old flame.

 

Filed Under: Contributors 85, Issue 85, Poetry, Poetry 85 Tagged With: Contributors 85, Fernando Pérez, Poetry, Poetry 85

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