Poem Not Set in Chihuahuita Park

There's a little road called "Garcia Way"
along one side of Chihuahuita Park in El Paso
The other side is the border fence
and children play on the swings and slides.
The birds pass high over that fence like any other.

But this poem is set in Penn Valley, Pennsylvania
far from the Rio Grande, far from Iraq
and Afghanistan, far from Charlottesville, and so
the threat is real, but I want to believe it is small.

Nothing forces us to look
so we look away
nothing can make you know
what you know
you can play dumb, wait for it
to pass. The night
will find you, pick you up
by your earlobes
drag you out of your bed
and down the stairs
to the glow of the kitchen
and make you work at forgetting
for another six hours
until the sun slowly leaks
into the morning sky
setting trees ablaze
along the horizon.

All I know, Jaime, is that you loved that cat,
and put it down when it was time.