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Sacsayhuaman

Inca Stonework, Cuzco, Peru

Una Sola America

I felt like if I left
I could be different
I could drink in all
these different souls
of a distant history
like a white chameleon
against the dripping heart
of america.

Una sola America,
the grandmother shouted
thrusting her fist to the air
her blood, raw and hot on
pitchers of pisco and coke.
Mamacita, I could see a glint
of Inca gold
in your deep brown eyes.

You made me dance
Though I didn't know the steps
and my pockets were bare
you've been dancing like
this for seventy years.
You offered me all you have.

The tears were not
for things that were taken
For I realized
they were not mine.
I cry for who I cannot be.
You can,

Mamai.
Salud, with the force
of your brittle bones
shatter the glass in the toast.
Una sola america,
lying in shards
in pools of
bloody pisco.