Saturday, July 16, 2011

Sonnet for Dora, Albuquerque, ca. 1995

He dragged your grandmother to the market place
the man, grandfather, with ice in his voice.
"They act like he's a hero," you told me once
when we saw his photograph and his gang
proudly displayed in the conference hall.
Gray-haired, lonely, mourning ghosts, you recall
the crime in the car near church and tremble
with a question to God you never sang.
In the high desert sun, when dogs don't dream,
he pulled her by the hair through cactus and dust,
another man's fish swimming in his stream,
and opened her throat with a knife and threat
that made the town deaf to a woman's blood,
the fear that entombs what shame can't forget.


  1. dang charles...intense and vivid and seriously if i read this right, jealousy can make you do some crazy things...and def make you and any witness question god for sure...great story telling man...

  2. dang this is tightly written - tough stuff charles...excellently from the title i recall it is a true story.. too many of those stories in this world that stay anonymous...thanks for giving her a face and a name

  3. Charles, this is chilling and sad. Especially cool that you you chose to write it as a sonnet, giving it the feel of a tribute to Dora. I live in high desert, so I was able to picture aspects of this quite vividly.

  4. This was like a kick in the guts, so shocking and powerful. Brlliant sonnet!