Capitalismo 1600 1399 Madelyn Parker

at breakfast we watch people drive cars through windows / watch Cerro San Cristóbal burn / squeeze and stretch skin / the orange rips / la palma sabe a jugo / ¡dedos sucios tocando taza, mesa y cucharita! / la gente es mala says la mujer on the news, reflective orange vest, micrófono a la boca / sensacionalista / mamá and papá adoptivos / fachos / hornets / they kiss the ground at Pinochet’s portrait / they disapprove of protestors / mamá certain when there’s nothing left to take al final nos va a atacar a nosotros / a family of perpetual work / house empty on early afternoons / the house with the only pickup truck on the block / the house two blocks from la frutería local / past clusters of gente who wait on the corner for the micro / mamá leaves me oranges she can’t always afford from Walmart’s cousin, Líder / could almost fool you she was my own mother / Chile and the U.S. strangers but sisters así / I imagine mamá keeps the house clean for a Pinochet risen / mopped with candy green floor cleaner twice a week / maybe he’ll come around with a guest / Kissinger or Nixon / the first night I slept in the house / I coughed until mamá pushed into to my room / put a barcode stickered orange in my hand, said eat, niña, breathe / blame your naive naked feet / ¿te sientes mejor? / The poets have written the poetical orange as / sensual, sticky, sex, amor / but fuck it is frustrating shucking the rind / the littlest pieces won’t / pull away from the innermost skin / inside bitter or sweet depending / what time was given before it was plucked from the tree

Header photo by J. Dionne.

Share This:
1 Comment
  • Bud Sturguess 06/18/2023 at 9:19 am

    This is my favorite of issue 22’s poetry. Being very interested in Cold War South America, this immediately caught my eye; but, I’m sure that even if I didn’t have a pre-existing fascination about the subject, I’d have been taken by these words nonetheless.

Leave a Reply

Back to top