i met
in detasseling fields
factories
& roofing crews
had nothing
or very little
besides aztec grace
& the dignity
of a bald eagle
high
on their shoulders
something of durango
jalisco
echoes of pancho villa
swirling
in their marrow
men like luis
ramiro
enrique
clockwork
no pensive
shame
or existential
brittle
i stood
in their shade
those lean
wandering
years.
Justin Hyde's books and other poems can be found here: http://poets.nyq.org/poet/justinhyde.
Nicely put. I, too, have stood in their shade and on occasion still do.
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