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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