“Landays for the children of Ayotzinapa” by Luisa Isabella Villa Meriño, translated from the Spanish (Colombia) by Kim Jensen

Another Chicago Magazine

Ganglia collaged onto landscape of bodies, faces and records
Street Ganglia, C. R. Resetarits

“Grandmother earth, I brought you this; keep it safe for me.”
(Chatinos deYaitepec, Oaxaca)

Because I did not find your body
I will lay my flowers where I planted your navel.

 I offer you our placenta
“o grandmotherearth.” They have robbed us of our dreams!

They uprooted the tree from the soil.
I can feel the weeping of the lifeless placenta.

My children once went fishing for birds.
Who imprisoned their visions in padlocks and in chains?

The farm is abandoned and alone.
When my child was born, offerings of bread rained down.

I carried him upon my shoulders.
I swear to you: he was neither the bird nor the wind.

Forty-three desperate women search
They’re combing the empty ditches and gutters for shells.

 Thousands of lamenting women croon
 “Sleep, my love, and dream— to escape…

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C. R. Resetarits has had work recently in Litro, Southern Humanities Review, Native Voices: Indigenous American Poetry, Craft and Conversations (Tupelo Press), Confrontation, Hobart, The Chicago Review, and Yellow Medicine Review. New work this spring/summer in Cutleaf and Vautrin. She’s spent the last decade exploring: the New Forest and Dartmoor to the Llano Estacado and multiple mesa of the American West. She recently returned to Massachusetts. She is acclimating.

On these pages you will find a sampling of work and links to more. Thanks for stopping by.