Thank you to
guest blogger Monica Frazier who wrote such a loving post about her friendship
with Michele Serros this past Friday.
(Check it out by clicking here!) Again—a reminder that if you are in the
Santa Barbara, California area, there will be an event to honor Michele. All are invited:
Where: At
University of California Santa Barbara (UCSB) Multicultural Center Theater,
Title: "To Celebrate the Life and Works of Michele
Serros" (readings and reception)
Day and
Time: Tuesday, January 20th
from 6-8p.m.
There are two
poems Michele wrote that she read for my students in 1997 when she came to the
class I was teaching at UCSB. I remember
how the students connected with these poems and the lively discussion we had
afterwards. To honor her, I am including
them in this brief post. These two poems are from her first book, chicana
 |
| Michele Serros reading from chicana falsa and other stories of death, identity, and Oxnard |
Disco Gymnasium
The eighteen inch waist
buxom blonde
informs
me,
“You’re late!
Bathrooms are a mess!"
I
tell her,
“No, I’m no cleaning lady
I go here. I’m a member.”
Her left eyebrow
arches
with
suspicion
she checks my
plastic card
proof
and signature,
annoyed wave,
allows me in.
Feeling very
intrusive
in this
exclusive
gym,
no bobby socks
or baggy shorts
like Rio De
Valle Jr. High
P.E. Class,
I’m the solo mexicana
in loose chongo
ex-boyfriend’s
sweatpants
oversize T-shirt
fashion outcast
creating a
nuisance
to iridescent,
pearlescent,
adolescents!
spandex,
latex,
triple X!
Ahead and behind
my eyes can’t
hide from
the neon green
thong thang
dividing large
curd
twin cheeks.
It’s the Friday
afternoon
last ditch
effort
to get it on
and get it off
with wealthy
white westside women
sweating to
inner city rap boys
(like they secretly do at home).
Kick
higher!
Stretch
longer!
Squeeze
tighter
DIE
sooner!
and the whole
time
I am thinking of
that double cheese
chimichanga
supreme
I’m gonna pick
up
On the way
home.
El Cielo or Bust
Very soon
Great-aunt Linda
is going to
die.
I know this
‘cause she’s
shown me
how to care for
her good china,
told me where
she keeps
her grandma’s wedding ring
and put the pink
slip
to Uncle
Willie’s Buick
in my name.
“Just in case,”
she says.
She now speaks
kindly
of Conchita and
Louie,
(past enemies
who did her
wrong
many, many years
ago)
thinks Warlord,
the pitbull,
had it easy
being put to sleep.
And thick, musty
drapes
always drawn
make her once
sunny home
dark,
sterile,
cold,
like the coffin
she will lie in
soon.
Every other day
before Dos Mujeres, Un Camino
after Wheel of Fortune,
a uniformed
woman
in rosary beads
and name badge
comes to Aunt
Linda,
comes to bring
her IT.
The wafer,
the key
that will unlock
that gate,
her final
destination,
last trip,
no senior
discount needed to
El Cielo.
That faraway
place
high above
shake-shingle rooftops,
El Rio water
tower.
And just like
every 1940s film
on channel 15 promises,
there she will
go,
Up an angel hair
path
Leading to some
glorious
Hollywood harp
shaped gate.
And then I’ll
Miss Aunt Linda,
real bad.
Her untouched
guest soaps,
Noxema fresh
smell,
crochet dollies
every Christmas,
Arthritic
fingers,
aching over
making
strawberry
shortcake supreme.
She gotta keep
doing
all the good
things
told to me
‘cause someday,
at the gate,
Great Aunt
Linda,
Great Uncle
Willie,
and Warlord
will be ready
and awake
waiting to
welcome ME.
Thank you for posting Ms. Serro's poems. I am feel like I could have known her, like I would have wanted to know her. Now I only know her through these poems.
ReplyDeleteJudy--We are so lucky to have these poems and other writings. It's certainly not the same as having her physically here with us-- but she is here with us in her words. Here's a link to all her writings:
ReplyDeletehttp://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Michele+Serros