Begging in Tijuana, December

 

In Khartoum,

I would go mad.

Even in Tijuana,

the giddy begging of magenta paper flowers

and children with muscle on them

empties my mind

of all pennies, oil, corn meal.

In Khartoum,

the emptiness of my mind

would fill a thousand hollow bones

with more emptiness.

At some point in dining,

rice doesn’t help at all.

Neither do tears, if the meat is spoiled,

buzz-fly green.

Where is our boat, then camel, to the Sudan?

Where are our axes for locked boxcars

of powdered eggs,

molasses?

Will we take a cry to halt

and a shot in the back

to feed someone?

Our compassion is better fed

than our willingness.

Yet what if this malnourished thought is true:

that we have one cup more compassion even

than the God of Starving Children?

Then, we are all beggars in Tijuana

and God will give us what little he can

but must be careful to hang onto enough pocket change

for his taxi fare and tip

back to the U.S. border

where he is awaited

by the steaming archangels of bean pots,

and angel dogs who feast

on the celestial ambrosia

of Christmas

trash.

 

                -------Bonnie Roberts

 

 

Bonnie Roberts is author of collections To Hide in the Light, Dances in Straw with a Two-Headed Calf (Elk River Review), and Greatest Hits (Pudding House).

 

 

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content © - Bonnie Roberts
Music: © - H P Chourasia
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