No Corn, No Country

Once my family dug a dirt road and turned it into a city 

Their houses settled between mountains 

Like water, like creaks 

Kept the rocks in the river free 

Here we do not do things out of spite 

Dad becomes a mechanic because he wants to 

Planting trees that look like lambs

We paint their bottoms white during the summer 

for the worms, for the mezcal,

for the corn and our people, 

and these mountains that never seem tall enough 

Trading height for subtly 

I climbed a path in the car 

And when I look down It's christmas

in the bus terminal at 1: 15 in the morning 

and my boyfriend reminds me more often than not 

there are still good people 

My grandparents buy him boots 

and our bus ride home and 

after 12 years the dust finally begins to settle

Published in Sprung Formal, Issue 18, 2023