El Pueblo

 

–after Pablo Neruda and in memory of my father and his friends

The men I remember

Are lost to the centuries

Caught on ships of wind

Or they stand

In abundant light

All of them

Swept clean

Of songs.

 

But how I wish they could call out,

Wish them transparency and sound,

Enough to tame the radio

And roof clocks,

Or the small birds at twilight,

Enough to give the bread and shadows

A slim clarity…

 

Really, this is the only wayward tune I’m waiting for…

 

–Stephen Kuusisto