Forgiveness
Abuelo leads me to the pond
where he keeps a family of axolotls.
They shouldn’t live in a place so cold,
but they exist, despite logic or reason.
Maybe it’s because he’s tender with them
in a way he isn’t with his wife or son.
He whistles to them, sings them something happy.
He brings them locusts, nightcrawlers—such a feast.
Their names are Mickey Mouse, Bugs Bunny,
Salma Hayek & El Immortal, naturally.
To become Mexican, he says, I must catch one.
Otherwise, I sleep outside.
I reach for them. They smile. They taunt.
Constantly slipping from my fingertips. Elusive as calm.
They hang in the green water, gills throbbing;
Little gods looking at me with happiness, understanding.
The capture never feels at hand, but then
the smallest—of course the smallest—isn’t quick enough.
In my excitement,
I catch & kill it with a crush.
For once, Abuelo is quick to forgive.
Says nothing’s been done that can’t be undone.
The family looks at me, still smiling.
And in my fist, something puts itself back together again.