El Tiesito
Ancestral Object Piece
El Tiesito, a world at spin right under,
holds the final resting place of a single breath,
sequestered into the low ivy, reaching for relics,
sings to itself in the Winter,
in those raspy, tetanus cords,
serenading boombox radios and corded telephones,
Teto’s ashes fall from rusted locks and chains,
the eroded scaffolding of a gate left for collapse,
a tool petrified beyond the memory of repair,
inscription of an estranged mother tongue,
pronounced only by a crucible’s howling flames,
the iron’s plead as the red hammer falls,
the anvil’s low hum as the sheet blackens,
into repeated cursives that fence our world,
refusing dormancy; slow, Earthly descent,
if only to remember a sacred, burning luster.
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Original poetry by Diego Zavala-Morineau
MAN 3, A SHORT POETRY COLLECTION DEDICATED TO SYLVIA WYNTER
