Cenex stands facing the highway.
Dedicated to Ponce Cement, Inc., now CEMEX, Puerto Rico
The poet says he was a hero, the alchemist
that transformed the Southern coast
into highways and suburbs.
That he was a king among kings,
that cement mage.
His hands, like Rodin’s,
ate air,
high, in an immobile rapture,
hands that did nothing
except touch the already made, transported, and sold.
His solid empire collapsed
in houses built in the seventies,
facades covered with cardboard signs
announcing new projects.
He left only structures with no support and a last name
heftier than all the Riveras,
all the Díaz.
Now he’s been replaced by other aficionados of progress,
who fervently believe their blueprints will lift
us to the moon, where we will finally plant
a flag with one star
and forty-nine typos.
Like that titan, the new industrial leaders
wear no crown. No need to announce
every sale and purchase.
They promise to generate ephemeral but necessary jobs.
Their hands flap whenever they imitate
that flightless bird that fans windmills.
Translated from the Spanish by the author
Notes:
Read the Spanish-language original by Raquel Salas Rivera, “Cenex se para de cara a la autopista.”
Source:
Poetry
(November 2022)
