To My Brother
and for the lumpen bourgeoisie
We were so poor.
The air was a quiver
of thoughts we drew from
to poise, unsaid
in the ineffable
world we lived in.
Sun, scarcely a penny
in that dreary setting,
every night gave up
to a smog-strewn avalanche
of searchlights, crossing
the heavens, a bicker
to buy a new used car,
a four-door sedan, a six
month guarantee. I worked
the years through, thought
I could work my mind’s way
out of there, out of needing
a dime bag of uppers for the next
buzzing shift. We paid our bills.
We were brilliant at wishing.
Our dreams wafted over the sullen skyline
like crazy meteors of flying embers:
a glow in the heart all night.
Copyright Credit: "To My Brother" from Emplumada, by Lorna Dee Cervantes, © 1982. All rights are controlled by the University of Pittsburgh Press, Pittsburgh, PA 15260. Used by permission of the University of Pittsburgh Press.
Source: Emplumada (University of Pittsburgh Press, 1982)