I Didn’t Know You Could Buy, and: Last Night I was Killed by Man

I Didn’t Know You Could Buy

something not for sale untilI walked through Coyoacán& watched gringos ignore

sign after sign: Casa No En Venta.Still I watched men knockon door after door stalking

houses they could paint blue,just like Frida Kahlo’s. It’s likethe time two thieves knocked me

to my knees for twenty dollars.I thought the thieves jewelersas they punched my jaw until

each tooth turned dark amber.Later, to save my body, I setmy teeth, muddy stones, into a crown

I wore the rest of summer. I knowhow to hide bruises so the earthwon’t get jealous of lightning

produced by simple friction.My landscape of curves & edgesthat breaks light spectral

is not for sale, but men still knockon rib after rib, stalking the perfect house—the perfect shade of blue.

Last Night I was Killed by Man

I woke—& red butterflies spottedour sheets. With his bare fists man knockeda seizure into me & then I died. I am back

from that death & watch man tell womenhe loves them hour-long in the park. When I dieddead junebugs veiled my face because I let

man put his fingers dark with earth on me.When I died I hoped they’d call me reinaof something, anything at all. Instead,

man tells bartenders how he lickedmy grey cheek like a dog. Death isn’t so badexcept being tied to a person. A dust storm

is coming & man doesn’t jam the gap underthe door with a towel. There’s no one hereto sweep the floors & he doesn’t

mind. Late at night he turns animal & huntsfor women to rock him gently:his mother, his whore, his child.