Issue 16, Poesía | August 2015
Waxing Gibbous: Coyolxauhqui
Sometimes the world is too much to handle;
horizons fade, options narrow.
Sometimes the moon is a white candle;
we break our bones to taste the marrow.
We all lose our heads sometimes
and take up arms to dismember
that chronology, those paradigms.
However much we try to remember,
it’s not quite right. We're misconceived.
We rattle the bars.
We bounce off the walls.
The seasons propped and slippery,
we’re spun and flung and recalled.
Our hearts a patchwork of scars
and skull-shaped aquariums swimming in stars.