Paul Martínez Pompa

Paul Martínez Pompa Poems

Paul Martínez Pompa Biography

Born and raised in suburban Chicago, Paul Martínez Pompa earned his BA in English Language and Literature at the University of Chicago and his MFA in Creative Writing at Indiana University, where he also served as poetry editor for the Indiana Review. Martínez Pompa’s first book of poetry is entitled My Kill Adore Him (2009). According to the University of Notre Dame Press, the title is “a homophonic translation of the Spanish word maquiladora, which translates into English as ‘factory’ or ‘sweatshop.’” Martínez Pompa’s poems often focus on topics of race, language, consumerism, cultural identity, and masculinity. In 2008, poet Martín Espada selected the collection to be the recipient of the Andrews Montoya Poetry Prize. Praising My Kill Adore Him, Espada noted that the poems are “gritty and visceral, but never cross the line into sensationalism” while they “vividly evoke the urban world, especially Chicago, without ever lapsing into urban cliché.” Martínez Pompa’s poetry and prose have also appeared in anthologies such as Telling Tongues: A Latin@ Anthology on Language Experience (2007), and The Wind Shifts: New Latino Poetry (2007). His chapbook, Pepper Spray, was published in 2006. Martínez Pompa lives in Chicago and teaches composition and creative writing at Triton College in River Grove, Illinois.)

The Best Poem Of Paul Martínez Pompa

The Abuelita Poem

I. SKIN & CORN

Her brown skin glistens as the sun
pours through the kitchen window
like gold leche. After grinding
the nixtamal, a word so beautifully ethnic
it must not only be italicized but underlined
to let you, the reader, know you've encountered
something beautifully ethnic, she kneads
with the hands of centuries-old ancestor
spirits who magically yet realistically posses her
until the masa is smooth as a lowrider's
chrome bumper. And I know she must do this
with care because it says so on a website
that explains how to make homemade corn tortillas.
So much labor for this peasant bread,
this edible art birthed from Abuelitas's
brown skin, which is still glistening
in the sun.


II. APOLOGY

Before she died I called my abuelita
grandma. I cannot remember
if she made corn tortillas from scratch
but, O, how she'd flip the factory fresh
El Milagros (Quality Since 1950)
on the burner, bathe them in butter
& salt for her grandchildren.
How she'd knead the buttons
on the telephone, order me food
from Pizza Hut. I assure you,
gentle reader, this was done
with the spirit of Mesoamérica
ablaze in her fingertips.

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