From Xibalba “[You want to know where you come from.]”

You want to know where you come from.



Aquí la noche da vueltas lentas



un zopilote

       negro e inmenso



The night circles you

             with its many eyes of fire.



Below you the ground

      is a vast accumulation.



You scry into an emptiness

                          where everything blinks back,



              a thousand bodies of memory

buzzing through darkness,



                                                   a great swarm

that descends, eating the violets, lilies, aguacates . . .



            All reflections consumed, the eclipse cuts even

your shadow.

                         You are the lost daughter of Xibalba.



Can’t you see the scythe

                                         swinging from your footsteps,



                            a thousand deaths in every direction?