Song for America
XLIII
Chickens Among Wolves
1
This will be our trail of tears
Esta será el sendero de nuestras lágrimas
The story we will tell our children
La historia que les diremos a nuestros hijos
Nothing will be left of our passing
Nada quedará de nuestros pasos
Even the tracks of our journey will disappear
Hasta las huellas de nuestra jornada desaparecerán
Bodies washed ashore
Water bottles scattered over parched earth
A child’s faded red sneaker a left foot boot curled up
Like a dried tongue strewn about the scrub
Strips of colored cloth caught in the bramble
Like battered flags flopping in defeat
Bleached bones bared by
Wind & weather
Empty backpacks gutted like prey
Listen you can almost hear
The frayed voices of the dispossessed
As they prod through dense
Thorny cactus & mesquite
With sweat & dread
Fear the daily bread of their torment
Felt in both directions
Leaving peril behind
Looking ahead for America
Stories of hope of brighter days of better times
Plática—conversation—you’d hear around
The dinner table if you were home
Strangling the silence out here
On the fringes—no man’s land—among
Armed men & cascabeles diamondbacks
A quick stop now run
2
When I get to Chicago my sister says
I can work at her restaurant
When I get to Houston I’ll get a job in construction
I’ll be able to send my kids to school
Who am I Quien soy
Who have only known hard work
Scrubbing my life out of existence
For a miserly wage
Mopping sweeping washing the
Scum from other people’s clothes
Collecting their trash cooking their meals
As if I was only born for their convenience
A chicken among wolves
Prey for their pleasure
A beast for all their burdens
Constant contradictions
Grow deep & bitter roots in this place
Where so much blood has soiled the soul
Criminals murderers come to steal
Live off welfare what
They always say when they’re
Too are afraid
Of losing their place
Who am I Quien soy
Who have only known hard work
Scrubbing my life out of existence
For a miserly wage
Mopping sweeping washing the
Scum from other people’s clothes
Collecting their trash cooking their meals
As if I was only born for their convenience
A chicken among wolves
Prey for their pleasure
A beast for all their burdens
Seeking asylum then
Threatening to deport they
Separate children from parents
Confine them in caged pens
Raid places of employment
They snarl growl bark like dogs
‘Go back to where you came from’
Go home &
Don’t come back
The dream dead
El sueño muerto
BIO: Fernando Esteban Flores is a native son of Tejas, a graduate of the University of Texas at Austin, published three books of poetry: Ragged Borders, Red Accordion Blues, & BloodSongs available through Hijo del Sol Publishing, published in multiple journals, reviews, newspapers, and online sites, selected in 2018-19 by the Department of Arts & Culture of the City of San Antonio for his poemSong for America V (Yo Soy San Antonio) as one of 30 poems/poets to commemorate the City’s Tricentennial anniversary, and recently named poetry editor of the Catch the Next Journal of Ideas & Pedagogy.
