• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Home
  • Mission
  • Masthead
  • Contact & Submit
Epilogue Magazine

Epilogue Magazine

Stories at the end of the world

  • Nonfiction
  • Fiction
  • Poetry
  • Donate

Mexico

October 18, 2023 By Lucie Casinghino Leave a Comment

Photo by fer gomez on Unsplash
Being there during the tail end of Jacarandà season 
Was a gift passed into my ungrateful hands.  
Purple blossoms scattered the streets near Frida Kahlo’s house  
I thought of butterflies, the ones Kahlo kept pinned in a frame 
And the Monarch species that migrate to Mexico each year
Which are now endangered 
Kahlo and Rivera’s kitchen was a wonder, 
Full of decorations, beautiful tiles, 
Even the house’s entryway was colorful, full of strange delights
I stood in the courtyard, buzzing, full of butterflies

Traversing the river on a boat in Xochimilco, 
There was always something to look at, something new,  
The water was murky but the sky beautifully clear 
I talked and laughed with my friend 
As dogs yelped, mariachi bands played, 
Delivering floating performances on the colorful trajineras.  
I ate elote and wanted to dive into the polluted water  
Too aware of the way this beauty will fade. 

I gorged myself on churros in the park
Dreaming up a future where this doesn’t have to disappear
Where we beat the 2030 predictions, 
Change our ways, stop the destruction 
Dipping the fried dough into caramel and chocolate sauce, 
Sugar and cinnamon coated my tongue, the roof of my mouth 
I was sweating in the heat, enveloped by the sounds of people 
Still I found time to think about hope, 
Its profound power, and the critical capacity for change 

At Tenochtitlan, the sun beat down harshly, 
The sweltering heat made the gravel and sand swim and go hazy
With hands slightly sweaty from a sheen of sunscreen,
I took the stairs sideways as I made my way to the platform
Great slabs of rock, arranged thousands of years ago
At the top I peered out at the horizon, mountains and greenery,
Letting myself get lost in the view
There was violence there, inherited for generations
It seeped into the soil, the destruction of so many cultures
Still, persistence is a human instinct. 
My friend and I took a selfie, 
Another pyramid in the background,
Smiling for the camera, squinting in the midday sun,
I was a tourist in a site of wonder and blood

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • More
  • Pocket
  • Tumblr
  • Reddit
  • LinkedIn
  • Print
  • Email

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: Climate Change, Poetry

About Lucie Casinghino

Lucie Casinghino is a creative writer from the United States and is currently attending Bishop's University in the English Literature program.

Reader Interactions

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Copyright © 2023 · Epilogue Magazine · WordPress · Log in