The servers in Casa Azulejos
wear turquoise aprons with rose ribbons,
caps like angel wings.
Sing, I am thankful for the wisdom of Giordano Bruno
who burned at the stake for his beliefs
Fasting on the First Day
of 2006,
water scented with a hint of tangerine
I rode to Oaxaca
with a young woman, Mixtec eyes of Siqueiros
She said little and dismounted in the hills
to see her child. ¡Ten cuidado!
The gardener kindly contacted
my hostess
How else explain the loss of dollars?
Alrededor de la silla estaban Santa Clauses
Lorena’s purse
closes with an apple green strap
Green, sweet apples and slices of pineapple interleaved
The cathedral an ivory yellow
in the white light. The dove ascending,
as finale, in the topmost frieze
Woman, he says, is always only a symbol
never is she herself
Elena saw betrayal, returning the woman full
circle
to herself in herself for her people
A deep Mexico in danger of extermination
From the produce of the
land come stories
now needing telling
How the manner of death
outweighs the value of living
Conception is communal
Doll parts she sang, muñecas plásticas
Red plastic wigs
Two festival queens
Bared breasts of young women bathing in Tehuantepec
charm the railroad passengers,
Covarubbias’ image recurs in García Márquez
Revolution’s uneasy address to sex.
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