Crack the Spine - Issue 129

Diana Anhalt El Regreso I used my writing… nostalgically traveling through words to the country I could not inhabit.

- Ariel Dorfman My morning settles into dailyness. I settle for words— my one way ticket, my passport home—and strain to hear the echo of my footsteps scuffle their way down San Angel’s cobblestoned streets.

You allow me to defy the Entrada Prohibida signs, ramble down avenues, stoplights frozen on green.

I collect a glossary of sensations, travel your sounds.

The chance encounters—a steam whistle’s clamor, sting of mescal, scent of ocote—mark my days.

You tempt me with promises: sidewalk serenatas, market bounty.

Today your language quivers on my tongue, turns me affable, serene. You bequeath me a childhood brimming with mornings, serve me boleros to sing before breakfast.

Mexico, you are my ayeres, my country of skinny moons.