by Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate, 2004-2006
Class, status, privilege; despite all our talk about equality, they’re with us wherever we go. In this poem, Pat Mora, who grew up in a Spanish speaking home in El Paso, Texas, contrasts the lives of rich tourists with the less fortunate people who serve them. The titles of poems are often among the most important elements, and this one is loaded with implication.
Fences
Mouths full of laughter,
the turistas come to the tall hotel
with suitcases full of dollars.
Every morning my brother makes
the cool beach new for them.
With a wooden board he smooths
away all footprints.
I peek through the cactus fence
and watch the women rub oil
sweeter than honey into their arms and legs
while their children jump waves
or sip drinks from long straws,
coconut white, mango yellow.
Once my little sister
ran barefoot across the hot sand
for a taste.
My mother roared like the ocean,
“No. No. It’s their beach.
It’s their beach.”
{ 1 comment… read it below or add one }
Kooser points out the deep significance of the title – he’s right, of course – the physical, cultural, economic, and racial separations all fit into the metaphor of the title. Every part of this poem is significant, but, the image that hit me hardest is the little boy smoothing footprints out of the sand. He’s making the world new for the rich tourists, doing the work that will give them the illusion that they’ve paid for, that they are the only people on the planet, that it is all theirs.
Alice Folkart