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.