poems by

Alejandro
Murgua
Nature always tells the truth
I come with my songs to clean the wounds
Like wind thru the redwoods
Im the hum of the hummingbird
The color of the red-tail hawk
Theres a jaguar within
that prowls the city streets
Hunting for a poem
The riddle of the blue jay is my pen
The majesty of the condor my ink
Im the river, Im the rain
The grizzly bears paw
The courage of the wolf and the cunning of coyote
Im the cactus, the nopal, the agave
With its sweet mescal
Im the seashell on the shore that listens to your woes

A lejandro M urgua

The tsunami washing away that same shore

The storm thats comingthe hurricane
Beware Pacha Mama
Because only you give us life
And the corporations give us death
You give us beauty and they turn it to trash
So I burn sage to cloud up their plans
I blow copal to confuse their midnight conferences
I offer cedar to protect all the four-legged
and the two-legged
Pacha Mama to the four directions
Pacha Mama to the center, the balance
For the children
And the children waiting to be born

DECEM BER 2 014 - A PR I L 2015

Diablo Moon
He stands at bar
fingers split with cigarette
smoke unfurling from his mouth
an angry Mixtec god
scratching the mahogany plank
the brawls and prison
still ahead

one hand around his neck

at 75 miles an hour
and thats when she crashed
the crimson Mustang
twisting it around an oak tree
on Highway 4 at the foot of Mount Diablo
the explosion singed their eyelashes
and the five years of rage that followed

He was 19
scorched as the hills
behind him
She was 28ancient
llorona-mama-baby
in blue jeans
and leather jacket
come to set him free
or on fire
after they escaped
fleeing her square husband
in Pinole
the beers and oldies
looped around his heart
tying his memories
to her hand on the wheel
drunk on plum wine
making out as she drove

La Mentira
Because when you said that you couldnt see me
I knew it was a lie
And you knew I knew it was a lie
So your lie was pretty much the truth, wasnt it?

A lejandro M urgu a

83

Mission Noir

he first time I saw her was in a caf and she looked strikingly
like someone Id had an affair with 25 years ago. The following day I saw her
againbut this time sitting in a class I was teaching on the theory of genome
sequencing. As the hour and fifteen minutes of my introductory lecture dragged byI
felt her eyes on me constantly, seducing, her knees slightly parted as she sat in the
front row. At the end of classI asked them to write down in two or three sentences
why I should let them stay when there was a waiting list of over fifty undergraduates.
When she turned in her paperthere were no comments, and no name only a phone
number. That alone should have warned me but Im the type of man who passes buses
on a blind curve if you know what Im talking about.

After my last class I sat in my office and called the number. Her voice answered but
it was a machinethe message was clear. She would be at the end of Dolores Park,
where the train runs. I had come to this spot with this other womanwhom Ill call
Laurawe had made out made many times in the underpass, and once even made love
while the J train with all its sleepy passengers headed to Noe Valley rushed overhead.
We were young obviously.
I didnt understand the attraction to the younger version of this other woman whom
Ill call Laura. The young versionhad an entirely different last nameI had seen it
in the roll sheet, though her face was a twin of that woman whom I had treated badly,
very badly during our time together.
Not surprisingly this version of the woman I knew as Laura stepped out of the darkness
of Dolores Park into the nimbus glow of the streetlamps and casually opened the door
of my car and slid into the seat beside me. She didnt look at me but straight ahead
and I could see by her profile, so elegant, that this was Laura, or another version of
Laura, or even her daughter. She turned to face me and slowly, very slowly unbuttoned
the white silk blouse she was wearing. She was naked underneath. Her breasts were
exactly like Lauraswhich froze me. Dont touch she saidI just want you to see. I
stared for a long timeminutes maybebefore I raised my eyes. I had to ask her if she
was Lauras daughter but I knew the answer was staring me in the face. A silver plated
derringer aimed between my eyes. And she said, just before pulling the triggerFrom
a woman you will never forget.

A lejandro M urgua

DECEM BER 2 014 - A PR I L 2015

Alejandro Murgua is the author This War Called Love (City Lights Books, winner of the American
Book Award,) and The Medicine of Memory: A Mexica Clan in California, University of Texas Press.
Currently he is a professor in Latina Latino Studies at San Francisco State University. Last year City
Lights Books released his new book Stray Poems. In May 2014 SF Weekly named him Best Local Author.
He is the Sixth San Francisco Poet Laureate and the first Latino to hold the post.
alejan drom urguia. org

A lejandro M urgu a

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