i cradle the turned cheek of my culture,
touch swollen eyelids & burst-open lips
bleeding the names of revolutions
i peel off the slums & drugs,
find bodegas & guavas & drugstore makeup
see a kaleidoscope of twenty-first century
kings beneath it all,
surrounded by the carcass of god---
and think, tongue thick,
how will we make it
out of the flesh
that consumes us?
