Grandfather Poem

By Patricio Pino

MAR 05, 2024

Grandfather Poem
     after La Pastorita Huaracina

not a song, not a statement, not a country, not a man

 radio
 I
 ought to bury you
 in my chest.

The taxi-driver says they found a hand
by the park and he’s sorry most of all

and the newsmen all look (because they are)
like good industrialists, split from the first

fruit with a force like the spit the workers send
flying to the pavement. the woman with the knife

in her palm at the table not even noticing
he is dead. grandfather like nation
 I
would like to forget you. in the sky
the stars
 on earth
the spines

 in my heart?

to music [the administrant says] a huayno
as white as the white city

my father says (the way the politicians
say) that he died by coincidence

in all the dress of a poem. machine,
filth, and contradiction. crumbling

like hospital, I
ought to slip a palm
right through you

I, can hardly see
myself between the lines
of two torsos

in the street as definite as the mountains
that flank them. an old man with lungs
long since failed. helmet, boots, youthful
stance. far from each other. singular point.
kisses pouring from intersection.
my mother’s eyes as singular point.
and one body

whose bruises shine white
like street lamps making maps
in receding distance.

not a song, not a statement, not a country, not a man,
in the sky, on earth, in my heart, I would like
 to die, to forget you,

Patricio Pino is a Boston-based poet.