Luchadores

José Angel Araguz

after Cathy Park Hong

They were the only men in the house,

and stood firm, one hand raised

saying farewell, the other idle.

I’d make each bed, wash dishes,

set chairs back in place, then dig

under the sink where their masked faces

waited to be pulled out. I fought

with them all afternoon, took turns

playing villain, playing good,

letting each one win, then starting

over. The light in the garage apartment

turned all summer, flickered

light and dark across the floor

as on the leaves outside.