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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=418231" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>IX. Part 6</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=418231" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">We bought a small house<br>along the river, in Southside barrio.<br>A shack I pried boards from the front door to get in-<br>half-acre of land in the back<br>heaped with decades of scrap-rusted wire fencing, creosote<br>railroad ties, tumbleweeds, a mountain of decaying <br>harvest never picked, weaving itself<br>slowly into the dirt again.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=418231" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> I gutted the plaster frame house,<br>nailed, puttied, roofed, plumbed,<br>poured cement, sheet-rocked, tiled, carpeted,<br>tore-out, re-set,<br> piled, burned, cleaned, cemented, installed,<br>washed and painted,<br>trimmed, pruned, shoveled, raked,<br> sawed, hammered, measured, stuccoed,<br>until,<br> calloused handed, muscle-firmed, sleek hard bodied,<br> our small house rose<br> from a charred, faded gravemarker,<br> a weather-rotted roost<br> for junkies and vagrants,</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=418231" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">wind, rain, and sun splintered<br>jagged stories of storms on,<br>I corrected,<br> re-wrote upon<br> this plaster wood tablet,<br> our own version of love, family and power.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Jimmy+Santiago+Baca">Jimmy Santiago Baca</a></strong></div>