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.