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Window Shopping on Broadway, Downtown Los Angeles |
she stares at her reflection in the window
a showgirl’s figure superimposed
on her own round silhouette
her huipil is stained with red clay
black birds dance across her chest
their caws fending off men
who lean in with mamacitas and bonitas
their accents and beer steaming the glass
there is no harvest of wool here
no poppy seed dye
crushed red grasshopper
no loom between her legs
here women’s feet press cold steel pedals
their sewing machines hidden
behind garage doors here women
dress their worn fingers with band-aids
at the ends of each arm
she sees the palms that once shuttled rainbows
the lines of yarn held tight to the loom
she remembers the rug underbid
by another weaver two stalls down
and her grandmother’s plum-stained hands
waving to clot the bleeding sky as her bus pulled out
betrayed by their own uselessness in this new world
her hands press up against the warm glass
beyond her reflection a rack of leopard print
and pants suits cut to hug a size six
calling on her to begin the day
in someone else’s body
copyright 2004
Ariel
Robello |
