by José Angel Araguz
…Come, memory, let me trace your eyes carefully. Let me learn you how.
These lines, which occur early on in Natalie Scenters-Zapico’s The Verging Cities, are from the poem “Dear Angel,” a prose poem in which the speaker recounts something whispered by the “Angel” of the title. This “Angel” is José Angel Maldonado, the poet’s husband whose middle name serves as a fulcrum into and out of metaphor and reality throughout the manuscript. In this particular poem, the speaker addresses to Angel a meditation on math and language, and the inability of both to tangibly rein in personal meaning. The ending quoted above, in being in Angel’s voice, brings into confluence the speaker’s own internal conflicts and the possibility of seeing clearly/seeing through conflicts that is symbolized by love. The impetus of Let me learn you how – which is a reaching towards a lover as much as towards meaning – serves both as a key into the poems of The Verging Cities and a kind of edict for the collection overall.
In the poem, “Photos Found on a Dead Man’s Phone,” for example, the book learns us how to enter the circumstances of the title. Image by image, the poem builds a narrative of human impression, giving an idea not of the story but of fragments of the life lived. This kind of narrative is necessarily executed not through mere description but more poetic means:
Image ten: exposed tongue – the buds missing.
Image eleven: flash, then the phrase –
our darkest corner damp with memory.
In these lines, the shock of the first “image” (ten) juxtaposed against the logic of the second “image” (eleven) creates a visceral connection; the “missing” buds of “ten” travel, in a way, into the meaning of “eleven.” In this kind of scrambling after life through image, it is memory that is most alive.
Memory is not only alive but life-giving throughout this collection. The poem “Woman Found Near Sunland Park Mall” invokes the story of the woman in the title as well as the border agent who found her “open-mouthed,//and [whispering] agua.” The poem finishes:
…He puts his foot on her neck
and watches how slowly her face turns red with blood.
When the other border agents ask what state he found
this woman in, he has a story that involves water,
how some can buy it at Target and how others
don’t know how to call it by its proper name.
In pitting the plight of the woman against the story told at the end by the border agent, this poem is able to bear witness to both. Against the border agent’s insistence on the use of violence and “proper name[s],” this poem stands as an example of how stories do not cancel each other but rather coexist by acts of verging. Sometimes this verging involves damnable acts; still, this collection time and again shows the importance of not looking away, of always being able to name and seek out ways to learn us how to go on living. Only by meeting damnable acts with acts of witness can the poet make their way and live up to what is later said in the poem “Placement”:
Some say you have no right to talk about the dead. So I talk of them as living, their
bodies standing in the street’s bend.
While the verging cities of the title are El Paso and Ciudad Juárez, the heart is also seen as a kind of city. The most moving moments in the collection come when Scenters-Zapico is able to elevate the love relationship at the core of this book to the heights of a different way of understanding the world, as in the poem “Angel and I are Both Great Pretenders,”:
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José Angel Araguz is a CantoMundo fellow and winner of Rhino Poetry’s 2015 Editor’s Prize. He has had poems recently in Prairie Schooner, Borderlands, and The Laurel Review. He is pursuing a PhD in Creative Writing and Literature at the University of Cincinnati. Author of Reasons (not) to Dance, a chapbook of microcuento style short prose, he runs the poetry blog The Friday Influence.