Calvarium

Do you knowthat in Teotihuacanfamilies buriedtheir loved onesunder their homes?They couldn’t bearto unfastentheir own lightning.Then I discoveredthe elegant falsityof believing the deadcan listen.

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This toe is a plectrum.Two breasts calcifiedby mouthsstuffed with thorn.Mother, wherehave you unburdenedyourself?Even nowthe bone whistlesto quake the tarfrom your body.

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I slathered flour and lardover my faceto summon the wombthat made me.And clapper rails.Your head was muchtoo big for my body. I rattled around,the invisible committeebeside me.¿Todavía hablas Español?I continue squawking.And do you know?Even the house’s joistsregret you.

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The machete employs a doula.But these sutureshave no origin.A hole drilled in the headwhere you slipped a scrollprofessing your love.But I betrayed yourturbulence.

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Gorditas stackedlike sandstones.Calabaza con polloy me vale la pena.A smattering of Vitacilinaon your thighs.How little I knewabout anchors or ballasts.How to organize the tillor soak my feetin Epsom.I never learned to skinnopalitos of their thorns.I didn’t even knowI lacked a womb.