Lorna Dee Cervantes
Las casitas near the gray cannery,
nestled amid wild abrazos of climbing roses
and man-high red geraniums
are gone now.The freeway conceals it
all beneath a raised scar.
But under the fake windsounds of the open lanes,
in the abandoned lots below, new grasses sprout,
wild mustard remembers, old gardens
come back stronger than they were,
trees have been left standing in their yards.
Albaricoqueros, cerezos, nogales . . .
Viejitas come here with paper bags to gather greens.
Espinaca, verdolagas, yerbabuena . . .
I scramble over the wire fence
that would have kept me out.
Once, I wanted out, wanted the rigid lanes
to take me to a place without sun,
without the smell of tomatoes burning
on swing shift in the greasy summer air.
Maybe it's here
en los campos extraños de esta ciudad
where I'll find it, that part of me
like a corpse
or a loose seed.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Freeway 280 by Lorna Dee Cervantes )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- this poem is about Kohls Cash, Mandolyn ...
- Secrets Hidden By The Side Of The Road, Is It Poetry
- Poetic Flashes, Sandra Feldman
- Lick Of Leak, sallam yassin
- Ode to Arizona on a Hot Summer's Day, Adam M. Snow
- Forgiveness, Tony Ford
- Chaperon, Nassy Fesharaki
- Great Warmth of a Curious Heart, B.. Alexander
- Whereabouts, B.. Alexander
- you're tall enough to ride this ride, Mandolyn ...