cover

This is the story of a boy, a dull ax, and a tree…

FAMILY TREE

JOAQUÍN ZIHUATANEJO

FAMILY TREE

Joaquín Zihuatanejo

eISBN: 9781623090852

First Edition

First EBook Edition June 2012

Book design and production by Book Baby and Bonita Blvd Publications.

Cover art, “Tree of Life” by Doug Seaman. Contact artist, Doug Seaman, at DSeaman_inkart@mac.com

Published and manufactured in The United States by Book Baby and Bonita Blvd Publications.

Order the EBook version of Barrio Songs, and OF FIRE AND RAIN by Joaquín Zihuatanejo at Online bookstores everywhere. Order additional books and CDs by Joaquin at www.artspeakspoet.com

Also by Joaquín Zihuatanejo

Books

Barrio Songs

of fire and rain

a collaboration with natasha carrizosa

CDs

Barrio Songs

Stand Up and Be Heard

Live at Longwood

of fire and rain

a spoken word collaboration with natasha carrizosa

Child of the Hood Days

HOPE 5 MILES

Barbaric Yawps

Best of Joaquin Zihuatanejo for Students

Family Tree

forthcoming

Canciones del Barrio

Poemas en la Lengua de mi Abuelo

Contents

Family Tree

Something, Nothing, Everything

Ode to Sleepwalkers

The Bride Sister from Sixteen Candles

Karma

Lost and Found

I’ll Never Forget

HOPE 5 MILES

Final Exam for My Father

Reinventing the Enemy’s Language

Tag

By the Numbers

Another Kind of Graveyard

Clean

House Fires

For the Jewel Thieves

Just After Night Falls

Flawed

Negative

Incongruent

It Happens By Fractions

Forgetting Jude

It Ends the Way It Begins

Mix Tape Biographical Sonnets

Abuelo

Metaphorically Speaking

Perfection from Flaw

Scarlet Poem

Slow Down ‘Manito

My Tio Juan and His Way with Words

The Corner of Beautiful and Tomorrow (from the forthcoming novel, Guerro)

Celestial Bodies

About the Author

Family Photos

I spent years

in my mother’s silence,

my father’s absence,

my gradfather’s garden,

and my wife’s embrace.

This book is for each of you,

and all of you.

Family Tree

They say fruit don’t fall far from the tree

And I hope that’s not true.

Used to think my mother was a willow and my father was an oak

But the tree I fell from is crooked and broke

Split in two by lightening

That’s why there’s nothing more frightening

Than the sound of my raised voice in the direction of my youngest daughter

You see, I don’t ever want her to look at me

The way I imagine I’d look at my father

Right before I slap him across the face

For leaving me in a place

Where oak trees are as scarce as two parent families

Where the first word a hungry child learns is please

Ain’t no shade under a family tree

When a father leaves

Just boughs as broke

As the vows he spoke

The night he plucked me into existence

They say a tree can only withstand so much resistance

I wonder if you cut my heart in two

And counted the rings from the center to its edge

Would it equal the number of years it’s been since you left

You were the taking tree

Took everything you could from her

Took everything you could from me

Left my mother’s arms looking for your limbs

And grasping only air

So she didn’t mind ensnaring men who only pretended to care

Somewhere between the muck and mire

Of a brown girl’s fear and white boy’s desire

Is where my roots took hold

I was less than a year old

Nothing more than a sapling

When you left me under the shade of the woman my mother used to be

Don’t you see father

This is the story of a boy, a dull ax, and a tree

It’s taken me years to cut you out of me

Can you imagine the cacophony?

The sound of the blade striking against you

The sound of a family being split in two

And now that I’m through

I find I’m just as stumped as you

Wondering what to do with the remnants of you?

Shape one of your limbs into a cane?

No, I could never lean on you

Maybe I could sculpt you into a blood red violin?

No, I wouldn’t know where to begin

To find the music in any of this

So I’ll carve a coffin from your carcass

Give your absence some purpose

And I’ll fill it with poems

Most of them true

And a few of them lies

I could write about your hands

And her eyes

Some will be hellos

But most will be goodbyes

And I’ll load you up

Cart you far away from me

Give you a proper burial at sea

And though my muscles may ache from all that weight

I’ll walk you out beyond the break

Let the tide take you away from me

Maybe then we’ll both be free

Maybe then the world can see

I am the fruit

You are the tree

I fell from you

You failed me

I am the wave

She is the sea

I break away

She breaks me

I am not you

Though you are me,

I am the fruit

That fell far from the tree.

Something, Nothing, Everything

My mother was something to me,

Not a lot but something.

My father was nothing to me,

Not a little but nothing.

My grandfather was everything to me,

Not nothing or something,

But everything.

This is how it is for some of us

Trapped between nothing and something

Yet desperate for everything.

So my mother's eyes were something to me,

While my father's hands were nothing.

Abuelo’s garden was everything—

I didn't want her to kneel beside me in the dirt

Some things shouldn't be a part of everything.

When I rub my fingers through soil

Or smell cilantro

Or taste tomato

I might think of my grandfather's voice

Or his smile

Or the wrinkles on both sides of his eyes

But I would never think of my father

When you're a child

Nothing could come between you and everything.

Ode to Sleepwalkers

for Dakota

In Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince,

We see that Luna Lovegood wears her shoes to bed.

Why?

Because she’s a sleepwalker.

So was Lady Macbeth,

And so is my youngest daughter

And blessed are these vampirical creatures

Who rise with the moon to teach us all they know about darkness and faith

Their hands buried in pockets

Or at their side,

Not outstretched

Feeling for the obnoxious wall or inconsiderate doorknob

No, not that,

They believe in the path that they walk so whole-heartedly

That they don’t have to see it

They can feel it

Under their feet

In their hearts

Coursing through their veins

It’s knowing you’ve got nothing to lose

And everything to gain

If you could just

Trust yourself

If you could believe in the possibility of making your way through the darkness

So live as the sleepwalkers do

Take a deep breath

Take that first step

And know

With every fiber of your being

That there is so much more to believing

Than simply seeing

The Bride Sister from Sixteen Candles

for Aída

On the night we wed

You said

Pour me…one more

One more time than you should have

You turned into the bride sister

From Sixteen Candles

All slur and stumble

You refused to take your wedding dress off

Because as you said

Between sobs