A earlier version of this poem was published by Poets Reading the News in January 2018.
THE OTHER MONTEVIDEO
“The hole in the landscape is real.”
- TOM HENNEN
There's a grumbling in the belly of this city.
You can hear it at the bottom of the swimming pool in summer.
Some say it sounds like static from an old TV, but slow–
which is like the sound of the snow falling
on all sides of my car, parked by the edge of a stubble field
in January. It is dusk. A full moon flickers
through curtains of snowy sky, and a family of deer
creeps across the field,
the channels changing.
The snowing has ceased and it is dark.
A TV turns off
and the deer scamper on.
I sense that the people,
the combines and cars,
the houses and TVs
will soon disappear through the holes
to the other Montevideo.
When the old world vanishes,
I make a new map.
Those jotted tracks behind me
mean road or path.
I slip and sink.
This marks buried treasure.
Suddenly above me
a black oak appears
with shovels raised.