Song for the Ghost of Gabriel Gomez

by Emily Brink
The Writers Block
Honorable Mention, March 2010
Judged by Dorianne Laux and Joesph Millar


*about a classmate who died young

Your family buried you in your uniform,
white and navy. I heard you grew wings
in the grave and escaped in a lowrider.

You are closer to God than I. So tell me
does he whisper in your ear, exactly where
St. Lucy left her famous eyes?

You are descending into the crater
of a volcano to resurrect Aztec virgins,
you are watching over the young mothers
crossing the Senora into the United States.

When you died an alcoholic priest wrote your
elegy with trembling hands—
Your brother, pockets full of heroin needles,
was ashamed it wasn’t him who died.

And here I am, in the pitch of St. Raymond’s,
surprised by tears. It has been so long
since I knelt for anything.