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Fading Away in Juarez

in this place where all are prey
but only some, predator

i remember seeing
my soul floating off over
what's left of me
on earth

while crocodile-scale hands shrunk my neck
the pressing claws of the devil's skin
burning mine hot as red can get
my inflamed pain reaching
to touch the flames rising
from the electric lines, on fire
above the incinerated corpse
of the man who tried to tap them
for power, a man whose hands were soft --
my father --
dead --
in that devil's bed
engulfed in the red.

the devil-man and i had made no deal
no trade agreement - my body
was for his profit only - i got,
in return, my death
my blue factory slave smock
filthy in the corrupted dirt
he pushed my face in, and with
my first and last blood smeared
to cover me as his hands
left no space untouched, my face
becoming a bloated black-blue balloon
expanding into the smoky sky
its skin splitting, slipping, sobbing
the saint's medallion meant to protect me
sinking into my melting meat -
meat -
that's all i was - a demon's feast
i am
putrified, purple, more poison for the soil
i was born on but not allowed to live in.

i fought to fly over fences
i yearned to wade across the water when
i was stopped
sent back suddenly, seeing
i was no longer valued for my vote
back where vultures vanquish hummingbirds
where they devour even each other
where they swallow every single living song
after suffocating it in their throats.

now i lay
fading away
in Juarez.

Style / type: 
Free verse
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Not Explicit Content

Comments

is good, for me, Juarez has always been a mysterious place, that I have never been able to visit, and I got the chance here.
I'm not sure that I would like to live there, but... anyway, I was just a tad confused with the bit about your father's hands and being engulfed in the Devil's bed in red, I just don't get it. I think that if you wish to make reference to your father, you should set it up a bit differently. If it is not that important to the story, I would delete that image, and a little capitalization, couldn't hurt!
~ Geez.
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It seems that the days and hours that people
are available for chatroom are staggered and
not a good match for most everyone. How about
if everyone just shows up at the door, whenever
they have a few free minutes?

thanks geezer. i have revised it a little. it is meant to show that her father was trying to steal electricity (as many in mexico have to do) and was electrocuted. i have added a line that says the gold badge on the chest of a beast to what she sees/saw to signify a cop who was there to stop the theft of electricity. everyone knows how many corrupt cops there are in mexico. the cop raped this girl and killed her. the cop is the devil the demon. i wrote this after seeing the 2007 movie borderland, based on a true story (the killer in that not a cop but many cops are not above killing the many many girls who have disappeared in juarez and other parts of mexico). this movie if you have not seen it, contains the most violent rape and murder scene i have ever seen. i assume it was filmed in juarez, but that would not be the only place like it. the streets there, the things that go on, the way people in rural areas live, the almost total corruption of police and government, is appalling. i cried so hard i got sick. this poem is in response to the recent closing of our borders and the whole subject of whether to close them. i appreciate your help

author comment

have made things clearer. I now understand the reference to the father. No, I haven't seen the movie, but I will look for it and hopefully, it will make me sick with anger too. Thank you for your excellent response. ~ Geez.
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It seems that the days and hours that people
are available for chatroom are staggered and
not a good match for most everyone. How about
if everyone just shows up at the door, whenever
they have a few free minutes?

This reads as a narrative by a new prostitute trading favours to a cop. In that context, it is quite poignant as it represents perhaps her first "choking" experience.

It is a powerful piece and with some work could be outstanding.

Thomas

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...so like my lost dreams...the flood

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