By Jessica Enriquez
Oh, my beautiful women
of golden blood and earthy face,
your bones have heard
the violence of the strange man
you have thrown your arms
unto clear air
vacant and muted
a wasteland of dead bodies
with no name or eyes
to transmit or transmute
one last flicker of horror
before disappearing into
the dry land
dust to dust
Oh, my beautiful women
with your bronze bodies,
you have carried our children
on loins carved from stone
you have crossed the cotton fields
unto the promised land
fecund and overgrowing
in wild yew shrubs
on gritty suburbs
to transplant or reroot
your seeds to foreign soils
a surgical detachment of the soul
from the body
a homeland that is no longer
home or refuge
but a rifle,
gunpowder on your brother’s fists
the nation of the weeping and the gnashing of teeth
Featured image courtesy of Malaquías Montoya.
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