Jai Alai at the Frontón México

Gamblers ignite more frenzy than players,
cigarette smoke disfigures the sky,
old men living among the relics
like prosperous fish, take hapless prey,
(not like the “entertainment venue”
that the game and frontón are part of today).
The betting rules particularly puzzling,
with pledges, the charge, and tortuous speed,
tigers, old earthquakes, my father, and uncle,
wagering slips and commonplace greed.

But for me, there was a vision,
amid the shouts and rival decrees.
Fire quenching luminous water
perilous joy in fugitive need.

Charles Haddox (he/him) lives in El Paso, Texas, on the U.S.-Mexico border, and has family roots in both countries. His fiction, poetry, and essays have appeared in a number of journals and anthologies, with poems published recently in Gulf Stream, Notre Dame Review, and South Florida Poetry Review. charleshaddox.wordpress.com