Colorado River, Lake Havasu, Arizona 2014 by Ansley West Rivers
Ghost Story
By Jacob Shores-Argüello
As a boy I pleaded
with the river to teach me
its long and winding vowels.
In exchange I taught it
swear words, how to play games.
The night I stayed by its side
for hours, eight parrots
came to listen to us speak.
It was a long time before
the river asked in a low voice
if the children of the pueblo
had finally forgotten La Llorona—
the woman who drowned
her children in its deep waters.
Yes, I said. Forgotten.
It’s hard to lie to a river,
harder to lie to a river you love.
with the river to teach me
its long and winding vowels.
In exchange I taught it
swear words, how to play games.
The night I stayed by its side
for hours, eight parrots
came to listen to us speak.
It was a long time before
the river asked in a low voice
if the children of the pueblo
had finally forgotten La Llorona—
the woman who drowned
her children in its deep waters.
Yes, I said. Forgotten.
It’s hard to lie to a river,
harder to lie to a river you love.
Jacob Shores-Argüello reads “Ghost Story”
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