Days of 1985

for Haiti

México, morning quake: Aztec lakebed,
eager to swallow city? In Tasqueña,
crockery, stomachs upended, scraps of hints
at dead downtown. Señora Irma murmured:
“A pity we should sit here, arms folded.”
Young Juan Miguel burst in, back from civic
center: “I saw one building sledgehammer
another, there was this just-like-the-movies
sidewalk crack crawling after me!” That
night, our cables broke, blue sparks
aiming street-sweeper for our heads,
and the brave masks covering them.