Guest Writer - Oscar Mireles
oscarmireles@yahoo.com

 

 

 

Oscar Mireles has published over 100 poems and a chapbook of poems titled "Second Generation" (Focus
Communications, 1985. He is the editor of two anthologies titled "I didn't know there were Latinos
in Wisconsin: 20 Hispanic poets" in 1989 and "I didn't know there were Latinos in Wisconsin: 30 Hispanic
writers" in 1999. He is a member of the Minds Eye Poetry Group that produces a monthly poetry radio show
on community radio station WORT and picked up nationally by 11 stations.
He is a father of four children and a volunteer high school wrestling coach.
 

 

Hand impressions

I arrived late
to the mind’s eye
poetry group meeting
and interrupted a conversation
regarding a long prose poem
about a father tragically
losing his finger
in a lumber yard accident

and before I could shake
the impression of a crushed finger
bleeding and screaming
out of my mind

another writer mentioned
that her father had accidentally
cut off his finger one day
and saved it in a clear mason jar

She said he saved the finger
alongside other body parts he had lost
and I did not have the nerve
to ask which ones.

Another poet said
his uncle lost a finger too…
“losing” sounds so nice
until you walk in another room
and accidentally find it
again

I thought about the time
my oldest son Diego
almost snipped the tip of his index finger off
using the neighbor’s hedge trimmer

his mom Clara put his hand
inside the coffee beans
of a folgers can
to stop the bleeding
because that is what her grandfather did
when he owned a coffee plantation
and someone cut themselves with a machete

after rushing to the hospital
to get seven stitches
at the end of the day
the mangled tip was still hanging on
to the end of his finger

I didn’t realize
that poetry
could be so hard
on your hands…

 
 

 

Shoes

My father bought me a pair of brown wingtip shoes
for my first day of junior high school
and since it was one of the first times I had
shoes that cost more the $1.99
I was so excited that I walked
on the school playground
with them on
just to show everyone

but the only one
who noticed them
was Pete V.
who commented
“where did you get those shoes from?”
and before I had a chance to answer
the bell rang and I headed to class
with books in my hand and an
embarrassed look hanging from my face

so for the next two months
I would walk out of the small house
on Hartman Court,
where our family of twelve children lived
and stop on the bottom step of our front porch
reach along the bottom of the creaking stairs
and grab a pair of raggedy tennis shoes
from the year before
put them on
and gently place
the brown wingtips
in their resting place

when I got home
from the cold and the snow
my tennis shoes were drenched
I would put on the brown wingtips
After creeping on the stairs
And walk inside
As if nothing was wrong…

One day
Arriving home after
Junior high school wrestling practice
my father said“see , a good pair of shoes lasts a long time”

 
 

 

Romance and Reality

On November 17th 1984, I met my first wife at a Thanksgiving food drive,
where we were both stuck in a freezing warehouse in between cartons of donated food
and empty grocery bags to stuff with a holiday meal.
She spoke no English, but she was able to show me, she was interested

that lasted 18 years
creating four beautiful children
surviving extra-marital affairs
crashing head strong into unwanted debt
before we could endure more grief or slithers of joy
we said goodbye
in words that never came out

on November 17th, 2002
I left my rusty key to our ranch style home
on the kitchen table,
never to return

after sleeping on my nephews couch for three months
I got the nerve to ask
would she consider taking me back
her response was “go rent a one bedroom apartment”
which my children later said was too small for them to visit

four months later, one of my sons decided to live with me
not because I was a great father and he choose me over his mother,
he liked the attention of being the only child for me to dote on.
I played the part perfectly

Last summer, my ex-wife realized that her two older sons needed some changes
including their father more involved in their lives
I bought a house in a bedroom community and they moved in with me
started life in a new high school

with three men in the house, I cook, clean and discipline,
not necessarily in that order
The freedom I was looking forward too
since my divorce
looks a lot more like responsibility
and the romance in my life
has become a reality
I have yet to get my arms around.

 

 

© Oscar Mireles
Contact:
oscarmireles@yahoo.com