Tuesday, March 23, 2010

St. Toribio de Mogrovejo (patron of native rights, Peru)

I check my expiration date between

the gaps in my teeth. Discovery. It is

today. There’s no mistaking the curves

of the numbers printed there. The year

of my departure. Instead of curling up

inside the folds of my skirt, I take the screens

out of all my windows. Let the air in.

Today is warm, the sun is the bright yolk

of yesterday. Hatched. Punctured by

the sharp wings of a jet, it runs out,

spills over onto the hills, turns everything

to gold.

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