Archive of New Mexico Poetry – Tamara M. Brenno

The 4th of July

We wait every year for the slow procession through town
the traffic that never moves
the sparklers that never light
the ice that always melts
we sit on the hoods of cars that don't belong to us
or sink, naughty and satisfied, into a couch we dragged 3 miles,
threw over a fence into a cow field
owned by a farmer who would shoot us if it wasn't a holiday
but he's a Patriot so he just yells a while and shakes his fist
before he stomps up the hill mumbling about ‘kids these days…’

We tilt our faces skyward
the beer stolen from some unwatched cooler
(while mommy chased Jr.
and daddy wrestled lawn chairs from the back of the station wagon)
growing warm and flat between our knees
the sky explodes
into sound and color
and you elbow me in the ribs with a grin
and I think of Mrs. Fosters’ fourth grade class
as we watched the Challenger
explode over and over from different camera angles
while she cried at her desk,

About the Poet
Tamara M. Brenno is one of the gifted and exciting poets who help make New Mexico such an interesting state.