Their Bodies a Xylophone

My father blames them. 

No te andes metiendo donde no debes. 

Walls couldn’t save them

because they couldn’t be saved. 

Thistles hitching a ride

on an unsuspecting animal. 

No te andes metiendo donde no te quieren. 

Don’t go where you’re not wanted. 

Which would rule out the world. 

In the sun, laid out, their bodies a xylophone. 

Mira lo que pasa cuando te metes

donde no debes. Look at what happens

when you want to feed your family. 

In nineteen forty-six he crossed

the bridge as casually as ragweed. 

And never left. No oven of an 18 wheeler. 

No sealed crate to muffle sound

like a plunger mute. No darkness 

to drunken instead of water. 

I ask him how he is any different. 

He says, in English I can barely understand, 

I belong here.