La palomita negra

Cómo eres, Frida?

The black dove

spine nailed

and pinned to spikes

of a vermillion cage

You were born out of

Tlazolteotl, Aztec goddess

head drooping in

a puddle of blood

La virgen de las angustias

weeps for you

and your lost child

still born under tears

 

¿Cómo estás, la llorona?

Crossing that river not

even Xoloescuintle can

save you

Quédate en el purgatorio,

los autorretratos de pena

So paint—

Paint it magenta

paint it amarrilla

paint it verde

Pinta lo que se quede

en tu corazón

 

Paint sin esperanza

force feed yourself

the slime of intestines

a mash of palvo and

churrizo a puree of

pollo and calaveras

de azúcar

only to regurgitate

it all—

Paint

 

What scratches inside

your wounds

Scrape it out

with your brush

The bristles are

plasters

 

Plasters that rip

the skin

with every stroke

every graze

Paint a wounded deer

and crown yourself

with antlers

nine arrows pierce

an already

deteriorated body

if you can only

make it to the lightning sky

you might survive

sangre trickles profusely

and carma says no

So you’ll stay in the

árboles, atrapada

 

They take

the scaple to

better you

(to ruin

you)

No hay

un escape

No hay

una despedida

 

Pinta cielos made of

shades of naranja

surround your depleted

worn face with a

wilted sunflower

Seat yourself

one legged

¿Pies pa’ qué los quieres

si tienes alas para volar?

 

So lay yourself

on this

canvas and live

 

Solo vives acá

La paz se halla

en el fuego azul

que quemará

la casita rota

 

Quema el cuerpo y

mantendremos

los restos

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s