Yaqui with an hourglass;
dance, he mother say,
paint yo face with roots and salves
dream years ahead.
Yes, I still care, processing wreckage,
make you fade.
You blew fuses
jumping track, switching riders.
Only the gifted would hear
bones crunching under deft pretty toes.
I remember feathers and Prada.
The Soviets did a telepathy experiment once.
Scientists monitored a
mother rabbit on a ship overhead
as her babies were butchered in a submarine below.
She shrieked precisely.
I try not to get upset.
Damn you for spilling the jar.
The toxins were buried deep, damn you.
I smell your lover for miles around.
Full moon animals are restless on the farm.
I’m cooking up the medicine
chanting up a storm.
I’m the fourth wheel,
Yaqui with double vision.
Too much afterburn
to focus then fence it.
Bring to the shrines soft magic
before wails are silenced below and
tsunamis drown the tourists.
We are public lamps in imbroglio.
Hear the echo echo
jogging down tacky pathways
you’ve been down before.
Try to escape without cleaning the cage
and see what happens.
With petulant derision, the princess of
naked city endures no real storm,
humming the eieio of denial nay