Marcus Cafagña                                  [author bio]

 

By Dust

 

I would get down on all fours and crawl headfirst

into lint traps that were mine to empty,

each steam-driven cubbyhole swirling

with particle dust. I who cut class

to work at the campus Laundromat

for the freshman I’d once held in contempt.

In a kind of coffin I would lay,

without shame, out of breath, on my back

beneath king-size dryers, overheating.

And the students staying there at the dorm

would shoot me passing glances since it’s rude

to stare at a man with gray skin, at a face

masked by a bandanna and by dust.

No stranger to their disco lifestyle, I craned

my neck inside one trap after another

in case a few coins had trickled down

from designer pockets like a bad tip.

I never begrudged them their ivy halls

so long as I didn’t end up someone’s servant

the way mi abuela had when she first came

to this country. A Spanish speaker in an age

of flappers, she waited on the blue bloods

using the ladies room. By suffering

their pride and prejudice, she sheltered me.

Were she still alive, I’d like to think

my Anna Corona would forgive

the college kid who dropped out of school

now that I am el professor, now that the sleeves

of my shirt are smudged with nothing but chalk,

the dust of a knowledge I’d rather forget.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Marcus Cafagña is the author of two books, The Broken World (1996), a National Poetry Series selection, and Roman Fever (2001). His poems have appeared in many journals and anthologies including Crab Orchard Review, Poets of the New Century, and The Southern Review. He teaches in the creative program at Missouri State University.