The masses came to the poem
in the angles of jardineros
because if you build it, you find yourself
returning back to the rocky soil
that brought a dose of specificity
to the rapidly gentrifying New World.
They came from Somalia and
Puerto Rico and from ancient visions
of the pastoral South
to an ancient calle, the road
of communal alchemy
from the dusted-up ashes
of migratory life –
They called it Zion Street,
la calle which gave birth
to yierbas and squash
tomates and beans
“beautiful!” was the word,
as plants survived under
deluges of water
and the boisterous rhythms
of repurposed city lots.
It is easy to allow the New World
to age, to stultify, to fossilize
under the heat of summer centuries
and untold, blistering winters,
and to forget the potential for reinvention
that such a moniker allowed for.
A rose from concrete is possible.
A unified melange is possible.
Mira lo que es calle Zion,
look at what it deigns to be.