Zapata and the Pony
By Charles Bane, Jr.
My God, how we starved. My father talked of Zapata as of Christ but not to be sacrificed. "What was one meal of bread and fish, when a nation calls to multiply freedom like stars?" said the men who waited outside the village church and smoked while the women attended Mass inside
I had never seen him. Was he real? I was not certain. He commanded all the south where our small town lay.
One morning, there was rain. A deep rain that loosed my mother's smile. She stared as though hearing music. "He comes," she said, like a schoolgirl. There was a thunder of horses. I ran to the only road. What king was this in sombrero, with bandoliers across his chest?
Behind him, his apostles and wagons and prisoners on horseback, their hands tied behind their backs. He stopped. The torrent above his eyes. The eyebrows nearly meeting above them like a bridge. The village was streaming from their houses. The boy in Emiliano said to me, "a horse has foaled. There is a pony behind the wagon." He nodded his head in its direction. I ran. The men fired rifles at the clouds.
Charles Bane Jr. is an American Poet. Curbside Splendor published his first book The Chapbook (July 2011) and will publish his second book New Poems (October 2012) via Concepcion Books, a new Curbside imprint.