Xochiquetzal Candelaria

Memory From A Bone Sample

Flags in the winter sky,
you at the pillars


with your tongue in a glass box,
ashes settling on carts and props.


Or mammal carcasses hauled on board,
the subcutaneous fat spread around.


I finger a piece of your vestment
in the checkpoint basement.


Sparks in the dark, blue flicker of
book-filled cisterns: summer crops.