With a line from Jericho Brown.In 1917 Carmelita Torres led the Bath Riots at the El Paso–Juárez border.
I.
The bridge is one thing
and one thing
every day.
The bridge she walks
she walks
back
she walks
back
when the day is dim.
At the beginning and ending
is always filth—
At the beginning and ending
is always filth—
a hand
in a bathtub
in a sink bowl
in a bathtub
in a sink bowl
scouring
and scouring
numb-
and scouring
numb-
white
her
face.
her
face.
II.
Before the long line
of ritual
waiting at the border bridge
of ritual
waiting at the border bridge
for stripping
and collecting
and laundering
and collecting
and laundering
the dress
her sandstone body
inside the dress—
her sandstone body
inside the dress—
Before delousing
her headful of dark
auburn hair and hushing
her headful of dark
auburn hair and hushing
her leather
sandals to a whisper
thin with heat—
sandals to a whisper
thin with heat—
Before the unsmiling rind
of their fingernail
on her tongue was a wick
of their fingernail
on her tongue was a wick
and her body
was invented
a nation of lice
was invented
a nation of lice
yes, she had a name
and color
and color
Carmelita—
III.
She says:
But not today, my obedience
my immense
hunger.
my immense
hunger.
I will stand
still, clothed,
and launch a single pebble
still, clothed,
and launch a single pebble
a single bottle cap
will become thousands
will become
will become thousands
will become
thunderous flutter
of monarchs
lashing the dull white
of monarchs
lashing the dull white
faces and border fences
that demand us to come lightly.
Laughable
that demand us to come lightly.
Laughable
their squalor, their failed flights
and fear of the small
harmless thing.
and fear of the small
harmless thing.
When they write this, Michael,
they’ll write this
off
they’ll write this
off
as assault.
I am a memory
you won’t recall but hold.
I am a memory
you won’t recall but hold.
When you hold this, Michael,
hold this
truly
hold this
truly
deep in the craters
of your molar, and leather-
boot skin of your palm:
of your molar, and leather-
boot skin of your palm:
the bridge
was always a bridge
toward you.
was always a bridge
toward you.
Read on . . .
“The Tradition,” a poem by Jericho Brown