Poem of the Week: 4.6.23

"Overheard at the Food Hall"

OVERHEARD AT THE FOOD HALL

by Ricky Novaes de Oliveira

How long are you 
in Albuquerque & why 
are you still here 
if it sucks so bad 
& you say family,
Jesus, fronteras
& is that it?

Don’t forget: this all
used to be México
used to be Tiwa
used to be wolves 
& dinos & giants
& something & nothing &
now it’s a war-zone
trash & some glass 
as loud as the pops
& the pangs
& the silence after
all is said, and done,
are you sure?

Your order is almost ready, sir

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Read by the poet:

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Thank you for reading the Poem of the Week!

This week, I’m writing to you from an açaí bowl shop in a chilly but bright Albuquerque. Though I was born and raised in Southern California, this is my first trip to New Mexico and this side of the Southwest. It’s been beautiful! Fun, too. I’ve been reading John Green’s The Anthropocene Reviewed (s/o to my wonderful friend Marin for the gift!) and, in the spirit of Green’s whimsical rating systems, I would give ABQ a 3.5/5. Definitely will be back.

I try my best to listen in a new place. As the title suggests, the poem “Overheard at the Food Hall” contains snippets of some conversations around me infused with my own thoughts about them. ABQ is an amalgamation of disparate societal fragments—languages, income levels, dreams, dirt, history, development, and hope. Or at least that’s what I could gather in 3 days. I tried to replicate that coalescence here in the short lines, enjambment (“this all / used to be”), varied but common diction, and the strained ampersand (&) trying to hold it all together.

&, Ricky