Independence Day in West Texas

J. Estanislao Lopez

Bought with the soiled coinsI pinched from the floorboard of our father's truck,my sister's sparkler fell into her sandal.Below her body,light pooled against desert night—a coincidence of beauty and suffering,which I would learn is an old coincidence.Old, too, a boy's hands placedon the causal chain.My mother smothered the glowing lace,first with her hands,then with a towel my brother fetched.Fireworks continued.Horned lizards skittered beneath wood pallets.I sunk behind our Dodge, and, as my sister cried outto a luminous sky I then believed was listening,I buried my legs in gravel,counting seconds between its shifts of hue.After the fireworks, gunfire resounded,continuing through my sleep. I dreamt explosionsturning milky, flooding the desert,saturating it—our feet steeped in the milk, my sister's and minetogether. Then, others' feet: our countrymen,who pledged this precise disaster:that for her woundedness she'd be remembered,for her woundedness she'd be loved.

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J. Estanislao Lopez is the author of We Borrowed Gentleness (Alice James Books). His poems appear in The New Yorker, Poetry Magazine, Plougshares, BreakBeat Poets Vol. 4: LatiNext, and elsewhere. He lives and teaches in his hometown, Houston.

New Gloucester, Maine

“In his compelling debut collection, We Borrowed Gentleness, J. Estanislao Lopez warns against the limits of the language a poet uses… Lopez’s search for meaning widens from family history to the 'calcified' American empire, the impending cataclysm of global warming ('Maybe there’s room / in the margin of error for us to save ourselves'), science and metaphysics, and Biblical tales (Genesis, Solomon, Jephthah’s daughter) for which he poses 'alternate ending[s]' and beginnings that would prevent them from becoming mere shibboleths. But he returns, with memorable intimacy, to his father’s silent masculinity, finding a poet’s way of nurturing a son, through the fragile posterity of words.”
—David Woo, Harriet Books

“In We Borrowed Gentleness, J.E. Lopez meditates on the ouroboros of time and its brutal cycles, echoing from father to father through generations. A meditation on masculinity, fatherhood, and memory, these poems weave a gentle web through time and space to suspend the violences within. From how to explain the silence of god and the indifference of the universe to a child in ‘Astrophysics’ (‘Some nights, we read / from her favorite astronomy book. / I struggle to explain the difference / between bodies and dust’) to the thread of consciousness that connects a child's witness to a son's compassion for his father in the face of his sins, this book is grounded in familial intimacy, expressed through the land and its ancestors, its history and creatures. The brilliance of this book is how the voice is always locating itself somewhere between father and son, child and man, husband and what husbands do in the dark, god to child, child to animal. Through this tension, Lopez shows us how power is terrifying to hold, how tender a child's world is, how vulnerable one must be to take the lessons of history, to ‘converse with Time, whose advice never changes. Who only ever says, forget.’”
—Vanessa Angélica Villareal

“In these beautiful, deceptively complex poems, J. Estanislao Lopez meditates on anger and love, on the intricacies of metaphor and its failure to address our most urgent concerns. Here, the drama of individual experience—of the everyday, of parents and daughters, of race and nationality—plays against the vast backdrop of history. Here, Lopez considers the forces of injustice and truth, in which beauty and danger co-exist inextricably, over generations. This is a profound and important first book from a poet who is here to stay.
—Kevin Prufer

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