Choreography of Hidden Parts I

On the fisherman mural near Cesar Chavez Park in San Diego, California

Huerta is a fisherman
who loves a woman
with auburn hair

and a green galápago
drowsing in a wave.
Sea cuerpo, he waters

fertile violets, onions,
a chorus of ragged kale.
Surname means garden.

On a mesa near the sea,
he says, I recall her voice
drawn to inland rivers.

Under arches, on stairs,
I prepared the catch unfinned,
bleed it this way, and this.

She wouldn’t. No. We walked
in silence, hand in hand.
Seaside market sold bottles

of real sangría, sweet naranjada,
thin boxes of cream marías,
and four pounds of hard limes

while needle bones lay white
in her tender tilapia, sewn
choreography of hidden parts.

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