The Magnets

on turning forty They draw me closer like the hands of one grandmother I kissed upon visiting her in the barrio. The magnets make me look at my waist, wondering why the ache is in the street, houses giving off stinking air, a magnetic field collecting old newspapers, broken-down cars, alleys where the drummer cowers before he beats on his bag of beer cans. I visit the irrigation canal that churns green and flows beyond the streets, wait for the alligator to swim by, the one released from the plaza long ago. I feel the pull toward the mongrel dog, the clicking of the magnets in the church, an attraction for open doorways. * I remove the magnet from my neck, a medal of a denied saint. I will never witness the migration of bats again, stand at the entrance of the caverns as bats shoot out of the opening, the evening bristling with their intelligence. The sky bruises against the horizon of yucca plants erect as magnets surrrounding the cavern, miles of yucca encircling the poles to protect them from the wind that pulls me into the hole. * He tells me to believe what I have seen, insists magnetic force comes from the blade, the woman wanting us to keep something for her. He says magnets are missing metals from an underground wound, a husband’s wrist broken by a slammed car hood, loyal dance of an old couple watching the street. He says tortillas and menudo attract flies. He learned red chili kills all life, insists magnets let him sleep fulfilled, delicious food he fixes long after his wife has died. He cries that the magnets get stronger when he peels the pods to find no difference in the seeds of hunger and the seeds of love. * I climb the rocks because the minerals are there, ascend to where I buried the seashell, rusted can, and pencil twenty-eight years ago. I reach the rocks because I am allowed one mountain, climbing to readjust the magnets. Then, I stand and look down. I clear my chest of a fist encountered up here, set my foot on the humming slab. I move to survive when I touch my heart. I climb higher before deciding to bend and dig.