Acequia lady picks up her mandolin
rising from the damp ditch of short sleep
her gathering gait accompanies boom box
baritone wheels passing on the wet street
as Mexican accordion croons through
car windows. Down the block one weary
dishwasher steps out for a smoke
cheap spoons a jangle in his big damp
pockets. He inhales then breathes out again
harmonica toke he can’t hold in
Sister in the kitchen cradles her instruments
bread knife and silver barrel sharpener
like drumsticks she slices the air with tenor
enchantment while in outer rooms
we drink without seeing
The hollow windy etch of leaves missing
from trees spooks me. Bus comes by
push brake hiss at the stop sign corner
where I stand frozen one wistful O
in the mouth of the bronze in the artist’s yard
floats as if a piano in her esophagus
is escaping.
—
Robyn Hunt’s poetry appears in various publications, among them, Mothering Magazine and the New Mexico Poetry Review. She resides in her native Santa Fe with novelist husband and teenage daughter where she works for Las Cumbres Community Services providing outreach and support for infants and families in need.
200 New Mexico Poems 