Mujer # 17

Because you addressed me
with shrugs, each
arch of back
a warning

de niña I wanted
only the purpling of lips
insatiably     biting
plum flesh
nena

if only
you understood
the nostalgia
of collateral damage:
bone snapping    and
rogue gaps
along fidgets
you too would
lull into my terminal syphon

rocking, rocking
until spines collide
big bang theory mami

you a universe of atoms
and i an atom
in your universe.

Playing Jacks

Because your hands like boats
docked into evergreen jumpers
and nylon stockings

Baba didn't tell you so
that the multicultural bulletin
-shades of tan paper dolls hand in hand
were a game of darts.

That you were just the right shade
and the right height to be baby
and not a delinquent
a vagabond, a loafer.

That waiting for the bus
twirling hair and sucking fingers was
not arrestable on the terms of loitering
that the road to Winchester Thurston School
cut through Black Wilkensburgh
Wilkensburgh of cop cars and sirens
scraped knee and dawgs
and drug dogs and Baba
was the pack mule and
you the cargo
the contraband of masala brands
that were not quite not white
but so close to right.

Nena he didn't tell you
that your nail file was a weapon
and playground rounds of cops and robbers
was a punishable offense
Feds breathing down Mumia's neck
when Baba told you speak the truth

he didn't mean to tell
the truth, the whole truth
and nothing but the truth
hey baby don't lie
stick a needle in your eye
or tire swing banter.

When you spoke of Andhra suns
and girls under tents
you pouted
just like you were trained, daahling
Ms. Dialis smiling, pashmina shrugging

orientalism was the only drug on the block

thought it was just all right
bros and hos
booty shakin' ghetto getup
at the school social.

Nena blinded to the west side
school house rocks couldn't be jailhouse rock
imprisoned in the privilege
of semetrically cut cucumber sandwiches.

When you were 9
cops were your heroes along with mama and baba
and the boys on the block
who wore baggy clothes as dark as you were
in the summer during wintertime
were up to something

not imagining 6 year old Regina
was escorted out of class for screaming
because she didn't share because
you didn't either

you
imprisoned by visions of Amreeka
Baba painted for you to protect you
from school prisons and prison schools
what difference does it make anyway
when you are hanging on monkey bars
swinging, swinging
hiding under jumpers and lace.

Dear Mr. Republican

I see you across the Mudbox watching me. 

See you cross and uncross your legs. 

It is only out of my vanity do I notice, Mr Republican

The sweat over your brow

the tie around your wrists

collars haphazardly pressed

Mr. Republican

I see your eyes wandering to my ankles

noticing the hairs on my shins

lace slips between knees, I see the doves in your chest leap. 

I see fear in your eyes, make you nervous

thought I’d just blend in. 

You needed the East through me

lauded me for my Bollywood and colors and nuclear deals

Recognized the only legitimate brown revolution as Gandhi

fuck Nagaland, fuck the Naxals

You forgot the mass burning of White western cloth

boycotts as radical- you erased that, forgot about me. 

Faces interchangeable, masks ready to be torn. 

Thought they’d have the same eyes, the same nose

same teak wood breasts, same amazon vine arms

wrapped around your chest- everywhere women just like me. 

My eyes burn you. My voodoo doll eyes burn you. 

My four armed nympho kama sutra goddess eyes burn you. 

Can’t charm me, can’t charm me

can’t bear to know

dark shouldered Westerner ‘speak good English too”.

Remember me, Mr. Republican?

Freshmen year, second semester SIS 100

I bore gifts from Chiapas. Here take this

NAFTA signed and kissed besos besos Subcomandante Marcos

we don’t need agreements no more in the montanas Mr. Republican

I watched nudge your twin with plastic pamphador 

“where’d she come from” papi im here to stay. 

You’re upset because you confused me

for pseudo liberals in navy blue conservative wear. 

Assumed my short skirts made me a biddie

cant pin me down in your binary

You gulp, Mr Republican

fearing Id start a brown or dyke or even white Revolution

cant bear to imagine I pinned shattered mirrors on my chest

like Juana Ines de La Cruz

turning rubble to rocks to hills again

can’t shut me up, cajole me, hold me, seduce me, race me, embrace me

tongues click 1 hundred 86 thousand miles per second

Afraid that my tongue rolls in my mouth 

REV-VO-LU-TION

afraid of the moans and orgasms reached across the table

as I read Homi Bhaba, Foucoult, Anthropology as I bounce my knee.

Puzzled I dont grab my uterus in fear 

as the war against women rages. I smear on war paint,

show you my battle scars

instead I plan on licking my lips, begging you to resist

Scared that I measure a man’s balls to the size

of my fist. Afraid you won’t size up. 

Thrusts in the air Im dressed in the words you gave me Mr. Republican. 

Thousands of years ago, sky opened up

and magma met ocean 

shrieking lightning bolt screams

the earth was borne in 7 days, each day 

a day of a woman’s cycle. 

I am nothing but the stuff of big bands

diamonds meeting at my thighs.

Humor is all I need- empowerment- a dialectic

I read the myths on the back of women’s palms

tear out the sheets, splatter murals on my back.

I want to be the example you give to your children 

when talking about bad, bad girls.

Im the zapata, the malinche, the mata hari

flavored curry you buy at Whole Foods

We the stuff of Hindu myths are your biggest nightmares

Revolution, Brother Guevara said, is the most primordial 

mark of love. So I’m here with love and a condom 

and a dildo and a drum and a mic

So I’m ready, Mr. Republican 

making you nervous, remember my grin

purse my lips draw skirt above knees like trees. 

Oof Mr. Republican Im ready give me what you got. 

Im not easily to please. 

play things

you poured me cognac

just to watch me pull in too-sweet cheeks

grimaces not supposed to be grimaces

tulle skirt slips, bobbing knees

unintentioned stiletto cracks

hallow wind tunnels

you make taking

my hand into your hand.

I’ve never trembled

like this before

-abalone eyes

I’ve watched you

lay into the corners of my lips

uncrossing t’s and licking the dots

off i’s

leaving my tongue deaf

and my ears numb

you ODB, shimmy shimmy ya lovin’

cool cool cat

“too cool 4 skool-mann”

I almost believed it:

empty notebooks, pens hollow,

Crime and Punishment buried under towels

I forgot why the longing

in your limbs

the cigarette silence

shoes by the door

nene

I want to

resurrect men sculpted

from torn sheets of music

rub my eyes

tell them- read

the neon mascara psalms

hidden in my fists.

break the teeth, snap the bone

pin the shattered mirror

to my chest

Juana Ines de La Cruz

they call me

but you’d chuckle

almost knocked off the bench

careful

the cig will scorch your thigh

ya allah are you ever still

cachinnation clinks glass

shimmy shimmy shaking

politely I sip, pursing merengue lips

watch me pucker, let it slip.

Blend No. 27s

I smoked cigarettes for you
stuttering and stumbling
aware of cilia crushing fires
that chained and arrested me like
a dominatrix cop

creo en dios pero hice en malas cosas
I believe in gods but do bad things

I
disguised coughs as chuckles
you mistook clumsy (a)diction
for femme female,
plumes curling
down opened white collared shirts

you held my hand
showing me off, my red herring lips
pursed- you were so so proud

7 minutes gone
the PSAs scolded us
7 minutes you
puffed, sighing
7 minutes saved
aside for me.

What I loved about smoking
was the sudden gasp
escaping your chest

-dropping beer bottles on sidewalk
-cold hands, canvas, bare back
-skirt slips and arm twist

I loved

that your lips turned grey
and your voice wary, caresses
in the folds of your face.

Mama warned me to stop smoking
why I wheezed
“you look like a bitch”
but

you found
the chingada puta in me beautiful,
dressed my thorn crown
lit black candles and silk scarves
immolation was never so sweet.

Clouds and clouds
you lost sight
of furrowed brow and sweat
smudged kohl
and overlooked
yellowing cotton
eyes glossing, no oxygen

in our dizziness
we breathed intifada kisses
in a mutual martyrdom
communion nonetheless

you left to go inside for a jacket
“its chilly” you waved
the pack still gripped into my arm

nene, lo siento
I smoked them all.

Weights

In the midst of cotton nights
he moaned across the ocean
screeching for the hem
of mama Sosa’s sleeve

reminiscing a translucent gesture
opaque in the confines of his skull

I held on for dear life, quierdo
like sun-dried mud caked under your empty kophers
to imagine, to imagine
te quería mas de piel mia

mine.

tears that fed trees like milk, calcium
grows twigs resilient to piercing greys
your eyes never left Sugatra
as you peered into me
and into effervescent currents

claiming that blind, dumb salamanders
were your only reality

poor poor niño
and I mean it like you, your people do:
noting the slight boy najwa in his eyes
water in his waist, stickiness
across fingernails
hesitant of the rushes you cause
as your toes spread in terra cotta
clotted earth.

mi amor, nada siempre jamas.

I still cross the same lines
you planted
into my palm
amongst kisses and slight pinches that
held the woman inside of me
hostage, captive in a cage

and habibi

how I yearned
to pull her out by her hair
shaking and shrieking
in fright,
embarrassment , silent
excitement

to sharpen knives in her teeth
and rest her assassin hand
between shoulder blades you call home, where
blood damns into tributaries
beneath peach-blue stretched sky.

Trust me puto

you might as well have the privilege of knowing:
I rub the phantom grease
off my chin and moan.
Clean apron, hunger knife

you beautiful , beautiful brute

ai nene

to believe the buds in your britches
once bucked and bolted
against the breaks in my hips.

to know the sight of
purple breasts
caused you to cower

but that’s ok because
even the most famous artists
blush
in front of rigid earth, unfinished business.

Romance prevails reality intrudes
wasn’t it after all sadhana
that saved my astringent soul?

pulling stems from Abrahamic wool

I slouch
and sigh

I have nothing more in my pockets
but seeds for the small birds
tucked in your chest

te quiero
te quería
te quiero nunca jamas.

Dedication: To a boy-man (something like that) who halfway forgot his mission as his hands ran up my pleated skirt. Be forewarned nena.

The Origins of Earth

Billions of years ago, in the folds of pangea

Mama said lovers are like limestone

-one move and they will crash.

So I fear your palms

wandering

into mine like boats

my own fingers grow warm, river

waves seethe in the tips

your hand slides under worn

worn thighs

little did I know

my breath against pueblo kneck

caused sinewy curve

I'll take you to zion

but realize brutish beauty

was to my side all along:

sedimentary chest molds as

rain drop tips the end

you dissolve slowly

into me

river sway, pebbles afloat to aquatic

floor, tucking

waxing-waning. Winds coo

against your walls

I carve you

until creek and chisel

merge

but earth shifts beneath feet

my brackish waters fall

into tierras womb

you, across the ocean

stone crevices yearning damp skin

you crumble into yourself.