Sunday, December 29, 2013

Donna J. Snyder, "coyote"

When you were born your twin's soul
disappeared inside you
You still carry that sadness
a sadness so profound
that each subsequent pain
you've been dealt
multiplies within you a rage
so deep that you cannot but be a comic
All comics are enraged
tu amigo me explicó
and here you are
tan triste
tan enojado
that you cannot but laugh
You struggled
Traps at every corner of tu barrio
el Barrio Campana
fled to beergardens and cemetaries
Tripping on the occult
So far out there
you saw spirits dancing with the grace
of your little twin
whose aura took you back en utero
where you absorbed her life force
How can she forgive you
if you do not forgive yourself?
Can you forgive yourself
if you do not look her in the eye
and say you're sorry?
Your twin was there on the corner
when you kicked the shit
out of kids from the other barrios
She kissed you when you fled
the neighbor's groping fingers
his probing tongue
You fled
Followed the trails of campesinos
like your father the bracero
who dropped pieces of corn and tortilla
to lead you to el otro lado
El norte
where los mexicanos call themselves spanish
Tus carnales tenían abrazos para tí
abrazos y chingasos para el cómico
Pero how could you be expected to laugh
when they called you mojado?
You close your eyes and dream in Spanglish
No eres pocho
pero you're not
the same wild gúero mexicano who fled
the ghost of that girl laughing
her tears in your veins

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