Dying in an Earthquake in Mexico City

posted Sep 18, 2012

It's not us. It's the universe

throwing us up. I used to have a lot

of trouble with verbs. I used to be

mystified by action.

          For example,

when you said me entrego a ti,--

I heard, I bury myself in you,

so I imagined a shovel or a tomb

or a coffin, as in your cadaver

was there, but hidden. It was a question

of tone, a question of distance.

          Me entrego a ti—

I surrender, transfer, pay, deliver

to you. And when do the sirens start?

          Me entierro a ti—

I bury forget, thrust (myself) to you,

into the earth, onto the jagged

crescent of your chipped front tooth.

It's an adolescent story you told me

about a bike and a bottle of Jack Daniels.

It's the one story you told me when I said

          Tell me something interesting.

In other words: Bury yourself.

                            Hand me an injury.

Kara Candito is the author of Taste of Cherry, winner of the 2008 Prairie Schooner Book Prize in Poetry. Her work has been published in AGNI, Blackbird, The Kenyon Review, Gulf Coast, and The Rumpus, and elsewhere. A recipient of scholarships from the Bread Loaf Writers' Conference, the Vermont Studio Center, and the Santa Fe Arts Institute, Candito is an Assistant Professor of Creative Writing at the University of Wisconsin, Platteville. For more information please visit her website.

Candito’s poem “Bestiary” also appears in this issue.