if I wear my hair this way
mija, if I wear my hair / wrapped in a bun this way / like a cyclops full moon / or the tidy nest of a colibrí / it means the day was long in grave caverns / it means I spent the hours eating mud / scouring the under-earth for light & glimmer / it means my blistered feet will ache by the fire & I will have no words for you tonight /
pero mija, if you see my hair let loose / suelto, unleashed / like a crown of wild spiral crows / or a fishing net full of flying sable salmon / it means the hours passed while I panned in the shallow edges of a cool spring / gazing into the batea / it means your smile came to me / a glistening sun in the silver sifting plate / it means tonight I will knit my arms around you / I will open my ears to your monsoon of questions / I will sing you the holy songs of trees /
(excerpted from part 1)
dis-astre
these events, ourselves
asunder, exiled from our stars,
our guides, sightless night
shorn by our every
miniscule apocalypse, atoms
like planets breaking, misfortunes
tethering regret, the failure of inoculations,
the collapse of disbelief, shredded altitudes
fretting our sense of upward, out
the plundered remembrance
that home was a star that glittered
in shining sounds of fiddlers rustling,
that day was a star, & mother, & prayer,
& every god who fed us
the bursting forth of seedlings under rain,
& also tomorrow, stars, all,
luminescing constellation, out of reach
from beneath the sprouting grasses,
from under earth, from the never-breath lung
until midnight dogs
dirty their jaws, & like howling
feral midwives, endure the hours
heaving the gravel of torments in the
delivery of bones, the birthing of claims,
the gift of illumination
impossible in the stench of withered sockets
under the light of ancient suns
their yet
unannounced & holy extinguishing.
(excerpted from part 2)