Chicano Poet

Thursday, April 23, 2009

La Conocida

How often he came home drunk,
and beat the shit out of her,

only she knew, how often
he raped her, how often

she tried to fight him off unsuccessfully,
only she knew.

They urged her to leave
the son of a bitch,

“the fucking drunk is worthless”,
her brothers would tell her,

but who can know
what goes on inside a distant star,

who can know where the birds are flying to,
maybe they themselves do not know,

who knows why the ice is melting at the poles,
maybe only the ice.