Freeway 280
by Lorna Dee Cervantes
Las casitas near the gray cannery,
nestled amid wild abrazos of climbing roses
and man-high red geraniums
are gone now. The freeway conceals it
all beneath a raised scar.
But under the fake windsounds of the open
lanes,
in the abandoned lots below, new grasses
sprout,
wild mustard remembers, old gardens
come back stronger than they were,
trees have been left standing in their yards.
Albaricoqueros, cerezos, nogales . . .
Viejitas come here with paper bags to gather greens.
Espinaca, verdolagas, yerbabuena . . .
I scramble over the wire fence
that would have kept me out.
Once, I wanted out, wanted the rigid lanes
to take me to a place without sun,
without the smell of tomatoes burning
on swing shift in the greasy summer air.
Maybe it's here
en los campos extraños de esta ciudad
where I'll find it, that part of me
mown under like a corpse
or a loose seed.
Las casitas near the gray cannery,
nestled amid wild abrazos of climbing roses
and man-high red geraniums
are gone now. The freeway conceals it
all beneath a raised scar. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15602#sthash.OcRkPHV0.dpuf
Freeway 280
by Lorna Dee CervantesLas casitas near the gray cannery, nestled amid wild abrazos of climbing roses and man-high red geraniums are gone now. The freeway conceals it all beneath a raised scar. But under the fake windsounds of the open lanes, in the abandoned lots below, new grasses sprout, wild mustard remembers, old gardens come back stronger than they were, trees have been left standing in their yards. Albaricoqueros, cerezos, nogales . . . Viejitas come here with paper bags to gather greens. Espinaca, verdolagas, yerbabuena . . . I scramble over the wire fence that would have kept me out. Once, I wanted out, wanted the rigid lanes to take me to a place without sun, without the smell of tomatoes burning on swing shift in the greasy summer air. Maybe it's here en los campos extraños de esta ciudad where I'll find it, that part of me mown under like a corpse or a loose seed.- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15602#sthash.OcRkPHV0.dpuf
Freeway 280
by Lorna Dee CervantesLas casitas near the gray cannery, nestled amid wild abrazos of climbing roses and man-high red geraniums are gone now. The freeway conceals it all beneath a raised scar. But under the fake windsounds of the open lanes, in the abandoned lots below, new grasses sprout, wild mustard remembers, old gardens come back stronger than they were, trees have been left standing in their yards. Albaricoqueros, cerezos, nogales . . . Viejitas come here with paper bags to gather greens. Espinaca, verdolagas, yerbabuena . . . I scramble over the wire fence that would have kept me out. Once, I wanted out, wanted the rigid lanes to take me to a place without sun, without the smell of tomatoes burning on swing shift in the greasy summer air. Maybe it's here en los campos extraños de esta ciudad where I'll find it, that part of me mown under like a corpse or a loose seed.- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15602#sthash.OcRkPHV0.dpuf
Freeway 280
by Lorna Dee CervantesLas casitas near the gray cannery, nestled amid wild abrazos of climbing roses and man-high red geraniums are gone now. The freeway conceals it all beneath a raised scar. But under the fake windsounds of the open lanes, in the abandoned lots below, new grasses sprout, wild mustard remembers, old gardens come back stronger than they were, trees have been left standing in their yards. Albaricoqueros, cerezos, nogales . . . Viejitas come here with paper bags to gather greens. Espinaca, verdolagas, yerbabuena . . . I scramble over the wire fence that would have kept me out. Once, I wanted out, wanted the rigid lanes to take me to a place without sun, without the smell of tomatoes burning on swing shift in the greasy summer air. Maybe it's here en los campos extraños de esta ciudad where I'll find it, that part of me mown under like a corpse or a loose seed.- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15602#sthash.OcRkPHV0.dpuf