One Million Minus One

-Qué viva la memoria y el espíritu de Anthony Soltero


Me cortaron la lengua, pero tengo mis pies

Millions marching mimeograph
our caras onto international view.
no caption does justice to the sight.
if they take your tongue, well
you still have your feet.

The headline of the mass outpouring
of raised voices and fists invoke Judy Baca.
Staggered portraits along the river, palms
open, holding light. al fin, murals and gente
hiding debajo del horizonte emerge
in a blazing, deliberate chant.

Rally cries can’t muffle a mother’s llanto.
Her son walked to the front, raised
his chin. an administrator pulled him
out of line. leaned too heavy
on tentative boy backbone.
the traverse toward manhood stunted.

Mother’s arms flail around the empty space
where awkward middle school limbs played
with equilibrium, tested reach,…

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