Clemente
As she adorns the sugar skulls
with pink, green, and purple icing,
Irene selects the most promising
for his name. She will write it
in flowing, purple cursive,
remembering how he tutored her
in all things Mexican; the Aztecs,
Mayans, Toltecs, the Blue House
of Frida and Diego, the pyramids,
and the flaming murals of Los
tres grandes: Orozco, Siqueiros
and Rivera. The love of her life,
he visits her often in thought and spirit.
She still hears the creaking wheels
of the mule-drawn wagon
bearing his casket: the alternate
laughing and sobbing of his friends
and loved ones half-drunk on tequila,
ambling behind the wagon to his grave
to celebrate his life as they took turns
shoveling Mother Desert over his casket,
returning him to the only Mother
he ever knew. When dawn breaks,
Irene will walk to his gravesite
and ready it for his imminent visit.
Larry D. Thomas
Los DÃas de los Muertos
(Big Bend area, far West Texas)