Juxtaposition
By Levi Romero
throughout the years I have designed
high-end custom homes
crafting spatial poetics with vigas and latillas
hand peeled by mojados
whose sweat translates into profit for developers
working at a nifty rate
sometimes I go visit these homes
as they are being finished
may I help you?
I am asked by the realtor
standing at the door,
thinking that I may be the guy
who mixed the mud and pushed the wheelbarrow
I introduce myself as the designer
oh, well, it’s so nice to meet you,
what a wonderful job!
please, come in.
I was once asked by a home magazine journalist
if I felt insulted by such incidents
well, no, I said, my mind mixing for an answer
a good batch of cement is never accidental
last year on my way up through Santa Fe
I made a detour and drove by a house of my design
the season’s first snow on the ground,
smoke rising out of the fireplace chimney
inch by inch
I know that house
through its X, Y, and Z axis
but, I cannot approach the front door
knock and expect to be invited in
to sit in the corner of my pleasing
and lounge around with the owner
as we sip on cups of hot herbal tea
making small talk about the weather
or discussing a reading
by the latest author come through
as the sun’s last light
streams in gallantly
through the window
just where I placed it
and for that reason
I take a handful of snow to my mouth
toss another into the air
my blessings upon the inhabitants
que Dios los bendiga y les dé más
my grandfather would have said
I turn my car toward home
to my mother’s house
a place near and far to me
she, my mother, is bedridden
and my brother is the self-appointed caretaker
to bathe and feed her
bring her morsels of conversation
it is their own world now
ruled by a juxtaposition of understanding
against what I have come to know, now
here, so far and away
I am greeted at her front yard
by an old, propped up trunk hood
proclaiming my brother’s spray-painted inscription
Jesus Saves
on the opposite side it reads
Keep Out!
I guess it just depends on
what kind of day he’s having,
someone once remarked
like a rattlesnake
it’s a fair warning
years ago I accepted this madness
and called it not my own
it’s better that he be drunk on Christ, said my mother
than on what he used to drink
we all agreed
Copyright Credit: Levi Romero, "Juxtaposition" from A Poetry of Remembrance. Copyright © 2008 by University of New Mexico Press. Reprinted by permission of University of New Mexico Press.