John Cutrone

Dia de Muertos

In other places we stumble
upon the grounds
where we bury our dead.
I am thinking, for instance, of Pine Level
where the magnolia blooms were bigger
than our hands; we read
the stones, touched them, talked of what it is
to die, our hands beneath our heads, the sky
pressed close before our faces.

I've pulled the guitar from the closet.
There are candies on the ofrenda in the hallway,
and black cloth, a crucifix, cut paper,
and here: your favorite scent of candle,
the sugar calaveras, dancing
skeletons, bread to eat,
and photographs.

I felt lost each time we opened
the ground. Parts of me
kept falling in, covered with dirt
and flowers. But today we'll dance won't we
esta dia we'll dance with skeletons shaking
animated bones, the wooden floor, the hats
and women in skirts spinning
green spinning red blue and orange, music
and laughter: such human sounds.

What is it to die? We could think
of nothing, and maybe it is
But to live, my God
          Love, I said
          Create
          Continue what was begun
I will dance with you
drink bone punch
We will laugh today like when you
could not catch your breath
We'll sweep the floor with your skirt,
keep time with the violins and guitars.