Por diez años, te va a decir que está encontrando
cenizas en las raíces del pelo que han crecido
desde el día que jugaste con un encendedor
y prendiste el pelo de tu amiga en llamas.
Sus mejillas pálidas y frente grande se pusieron rojos.
Empezó a gritar, “te voy a quitar los ojos!”
Por lo menos te moviste rápido y lo apagaste —
ella solo se enojó y siguió gritándote como padre.
Aprendizaje ganado por tu curiosidad;
No quisiste causar tanta animosidad.
Te dio risa cuando pasó? No, no pudiste,
su cara amistosa estuvo tan triste.
Miraste las cenizas caminando a su casa.
Te disculpaste, el respeto fue tu falta.
Los dos sentados econ vistas a Collis en la colina,
el cielo era azul, el calor era seco, cada respiro era calido.
Una sonrisa finalmente tocó tus labios.
Nos reímos y dijimos tonterías sobre el daño.
Quién pensó que la niñez desaparecería tan rápido?
Did You Know Hair Burns Quickly?
A poem by Diego Camacho
For ten years she’ll claim to find ashes in
the roots of hair that have long since grown in,
since that day when you played with a lighter
and you lit your homegirl’s hair on fire.
Her pale cheeks and big forehead got so red.
She began to scream, “I want you dead!”
At least you acted quickly and blew the fire out —
all Judy did was get mad and begin to shout.
Knowledge earned because of your curiosity;
you didn’t mean to cause so much animosity.
You couldn’t even laugh when it happened,
her once friendly face was now so saddened.
You stared at the ashy patch as you walked her home,
apologized and claimed the mistake as your own.
You both sat on the hillside dirt that overlooked Collis.
The sky was blue, the heat was dry, every breath was crisp.
A smile finally crept across your lips.
We laughed and talked s—t.
Who knew a childhood would fade so quick?
This piece first published in Pueblo at 14 East, an independent online magazine based in Chicago, run DePaul University students.
