Sunday, September 7, 2014

Guadalupe

Guadalupe wears her red cape in the rain;
her black hair makes her appear to be on fire.
The sky is like an ether cloth, trying to put her out.
The sun is a coward, a pendejo
a grandee in Granada, a gardener in New Braunfels,
haunting the hotel from inside the linen closets.

Lupe goes to Danny's, but always drops her coffee mug.
It's a starry constellation on the floor.
"Ay, chica, you're such a spaz," say her friends.
Inside her is a howl. It paces from rib to rib, getting closer to her throat.
She has noticed that she no longer has hands.
Short gray fur, pads, the urge to run--
she has these at the end of her arms, her rope, her patience.

Last night, she dreamed that a gaucho rolled the moon across a stage
as if it were a lariat.
His horse snorted and stamped at the ground at the mere scent of her,
and then,
in the weird way of dreams,
the gaucho became Caligula, and he spoke to her urgently.
"I ordered my legions to march against the sea.
When they failed, I required that my soldiers collect shells in their helmets,
like little girls.
In the end, I turned into a porcupine, killed with quills delivered by my enemies."

Guadalupe's friends are blathering on about lip gloss.
Lupe sees that the Succubus and the Queen of the Vampires are sitting on one side of the door,
and that Chloe and God are sitting on the other,
like Nixons in a bowling alley.
Lupe winks at Savanna the teenage runaway,
and just like that, they are over the tables and out the door,
converting the split,
a silver blur in new moonlight, running hell for Sunday into indigo night.
________

for Marian's music prompt. Will the wolf survive? One of my favorite songs. 

When visiting New Braunfels, Texas, try the Prince Solms Inn. It is haunted by the spirit of a jilted bride.

Nixons.

See? 

  

13 comments:

Marian said...

ohh, nice! love this. my favorite part sets the stage at the beginning: "the sky is like an ether cloth, trying to put her out." not succeeding.

hedgewitch said...

As always Shay, filled with a tossing vitality of language and image that steamrolls over the reader, filling the senses with startling but always revealing images, and leaving a taste of sulphur, brimstone and low-fat latte on the tongue as the wolf at the end of the world howls before his well-deserved meal. My favorite line is the one Marian quotes, but the middle stanza, and the bowling metaphors give it a lot of competition. I have been to New Braunfels many times, but missed the haunted inn...must look it up.

TexWisGirl said...

ahh, thanks for depicting the nixons. :)

loved this line: Inside her is a howl. It paces from rib to rib, getting closer to her throat.

violet dust said...

I love these lines:

"The sky is like an ether cloth, trying to put her out"

"The sun is a coward, a pendejo,"

"Inside her is a howl. It paces from rib to rib, getting closer to her throat.
She has noticed that she no longer has hands." (no "hands" left for praying)

"In the end, I turned into a porcupine, killed with quills delivered by my enemies." (double meaning in "quills")


I'm at a loss as to what I should say. I don't imagine comments can be very fulfilling, considering the great deal of work you obviously put into your poems. Just know that it is noticed, absorbed, and appreciated. When you create these characters and describe them in such precise detail, their spirits I mean, it's like you're giving words to the wordless. ~Those who can't do this, feel like their howls have somehow been released ... through your throat. I, for one, thank you for that gift.

P.S. I love New Braunfels, and I also miss Spanish language bombs being dropped left and right around me at all times. No one knows a stupid sun like I do. For me, this poem carries with it a good bit of Texas nostalgia. So thank you for that, as well.

violet dust said...

More love, upon a third (and fourth) reading:

"Ay, chica, you're such a spaz"

"her black hair makes her appear to be on fire" (there's a "burning in hell" reference in there as well)

Man, I love this line so very much: "The sky is like an ether cloth, trying to put her out" ... Who in the world doesn't feel like that?!

"always drops her coffee mug.
It's a starry constellation on the floor" ... Me. To the max. Clumsy as all-get-out. But also, if you don't drop the mug, how can you read the leaves/stars/etc.?

"When they failed, I required that my soldiers collect shells in their helmets,
like little girls."

"Guadalupe's friends are blathering on about lip gloss."

There's definitely an underlying spiritual tug-of-war going on here. And obviously she chooses "the dark side," with a wink, and runs off to play.

"a silver blur in new moonlight, running hell for Sunday into indigo night" ... See? No church for this girl.

Mama Zen said...

A gorgeous tale, Shay.

Kerry O'Connor said...

This is just one of the things I love about your writing:

Last night, she dreamed that a gaucho rolled the moon across a stage
as if it were a lariat.

The unexpected similes, the immense scope of your vision.

Sioux said...

A beautiful poem AND a beautiful song. (I went back to David Hidalgo's version. Should I have listened to the other one?)

grapeling said...

magic of the best kind ~

Susie Clevenger said...

I agree, the beginning sets the stage.."the sky is like an ether cloth trying to put her out." What an amazing story. I am in New Braunfels often. I need to book a stay at Prince Solms Inn.

Cloudia said...

loup - wolf.

That opening stanza alone is a polished gem that so besotted me that the following lines did not get their due.

Often happens with your work, and argues for hard copies to be cherished, re-read, ling enjoyed.

Submit your work to worthy publications. Do it as a Quixotic self flagellation. Who knows? Someone in a position may actually have an eye and a heart!


ALOHA from Honolulu
ComfortSpiral
=^..^= . <3

Sherry Blue Sky said...

No idea how you keep doing this, but we are all so fortunate that you do. Nixons in a bowling alley? We'd all be better off had he always wanted to be a pin boy.

Sara said...

So we're getting more characters. I love it or have I just not met some of these before? If so, I don't remember them, but they sound like they're having fun in the poem.

I like the idea of "Chloe and God stilling next on the other like Nixons in a bowling alley." But I confess until your picture I had no clue what "Nixons in a bowling alley" meant.

I loved the last line best. It made me want to follow them, but at a safe distance.

Did you the wolf is my totem animal? I once had a dream that a big gray wolf was chasing me. I was terrified and ran as fast as I could, but it caught me anyway. Turns out, it didn't want to kill me but instead was there to guide me:~) I've never forgotten this: Sometimes what terrifies you is actually what can help you or guide you. Happy day to you, my friend:~)