poetry

 

wages for housework and other necessary labor

this face

that cannot

imagine the sweetness

of reciprocity, begs

for release

 

in dreams

(in dreams)
my teeth fall out.                           

I am a mouth full
of crowns and empty
houses; my gums, bloody
shores where ancestral trauma still washes up
                                                                  today.

your wings melt.

you triangulate the distance to
my thighs        e x p a n s i v e
cemeteries nestling the field of bright
                                                        cempazuchitl
that will break your fall.

Sword Swallower (Somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic)

I spent a year as a sword swallower
Moaned your name through the scar tissue
Closed my eyes and imagined the crows
Feet that form around your eyes when you 
Smile (Achilles heel turned broken ankle).

I wanted you to tell me more about G*****
(You were impressed that I could find it on a map);
About your dad.
I wanted to cure your asthma
Bring you tea in the middle of the night–

You wanted to tell me about someone else.

you cannot live without a fire

you crossed the border twice.
over the moon and under it,
sad embers sighed and

people warned of stormy weather.

but god is in the rain.
gray and soft like the melancholy
you tuck behind your tender ear
                                                   of maize, Xilonen;
the huitlacoche of Sunday markets.

the milky cup of tea which
you let get cold again.

I Finger The Loneliness

yearning happens at night;

when the need for warmth of touch melts the frost of survival. 

when tender sinews surrender, I

throw arms around ghosts—the ones who linger 

on the tongue like bitter coffee; bite bottom lip like mezcal.

                                                             (scorched earth of my mouth)

Good Bait: The Political Economy of Desire

i.

black on black on Black on
Timbs;
an interruption – no,
an intervention.
a reminder to the Columbus-ing ass fuckboys
(and girls) that
they
still
here.