Juan Luzuriaga

Plantain Leaf

Wrap me up in a platano leaf when I die

no caskets, no flags, my body belongs to my Amazon. 

I want to sing burnt street corn, bolón de verde, patacón

yell stories of fruit bought at street lights, dogs trying to bite my bike,

climbing volcanos, breaking piñatas, burning El Año Viejo doll in New Year.

Wrap me up in a platano leaf

to warm me up like Inti and remind me about sixteen 

alpaca blankets, tropical hips, teenage flirting in church, 

the lanky girl with achiote lips, cacao skin, Amazonian green eyes,

you would’ve never guessed by the way her skirt billows

that she’d become Miss Ecuador.

Wrap me up in a platano leaf

so I can cheat the laws of time

questions and conversations 

for the roots of the plantain tree

my neurons merging 

with the root network of this wise one, deep below.

Wrap me up in a platano leaf when I die

So, I can finally find that warmth I’ve been searching for.

Behind the Aluminum Trenches 

The mirror and my mom are lovers

neglecting my presence with their smirks and flirting

Until I interrupt them,“What are you doing?”

They respond without breaking eye contact from each other,

“Arreglándome.” Fixing yourself?

She manages the chaos in her life with a straight eyeliner mark,

a drag of mascara to discipline lazy eyelashes,

hairdryer—a loud military sergeant yelling at soldiers single file,

they’re all perfect, in line, pristine black uniforms, not one wrinkle,

punctual as the serious clock guard.

Her mother was a life war veteran with a mirror lover, too

She fought in the abandoning mother war of 1924

left with a blush case with a mirror to make up happiness. 

She was in the civil war of 1938, lasting seven years

battling alone after her fangirl wish at a concert

left a casualty in her belly.

Her concealer couldn’t deceive a rejecting society, 

no money, no nest, 

off to her handsome musician familys’ place,

festive hell filled with perpetual smoke and drink.

The war of 1943 when she tried saving her child

from the explosions and fumes inside the toxic home

evacuating him to a monastery for defense

using the ashes for eye shadow. 

My mom is fixing her life in the mirror at home

but all I can see are scars from old wars.