a dogon iguana
one eye open seeing me
seeing my dreams
creep like david
rousseve’s feet
from my finely cut
pecs rahway built
niggah’s on gleamin’
bridges/ admire so
much/ they stop
smile snaggle-toothed
gleamin’ lust gleanin’
all they know I bettah
not toy with/ they dreams
swimmin’ top themselves
by the rio grande in
rainy season/ so
my calves tease
the border patrol
“jalisco courtin’ dance?”
“no, sonora harvest”/ toes
water
ritmo/
made it!
land!!
tattooed like
his arms lizards
slitherin’ on top
the wet crossin’
toward ácaba
toward me/ like
a human touch
can you smell it?
the pimiento & dust
lettuce & uva now
hard as muscle his lips drawn permanently
gainst steam
rushin’ from
dark patterned family
expresso pots
“papi, esta listo” como
some four legged
underwater creatures
lithe 6 million years
old a conspicuous
cholo agasao
when he quotes
Martí nobody notices
but me by the
Malecón hidden in tides risin with
each morena’s wail
etched on our skin
how cd she know
guillén the tricky
cubano light on
his feet/ a black
ox covered with ribbons & bloody medals
for his amazin’ grace
how el son trips
sacred from his
laughter & la Havana
vieja rolls her
these words frágiles
full of coney island
bubbles float from
mouth to nose
to Miami the tortured
negrita in santo domingo
whose mami sewed
polyester hems while
Trujillo imitated
Porfirio’s dreams of his
own statue/
loose rice powder round the bronze of his brow
my lizard stretches
one limb toward
mahogany branches
worn away by many
poets tired and lonely
one water buffalo
yearning for one
chord from yomo toro
the lizard on the
other side of the
border whose breath
blends with hibiscus
sweet tequila &
my hair/ lizard closes
his eyes/ skin now
roughened crepe/
limbs cut-buddy
to gallopin apaches
outside Denver/ nestled by
painted trunks
of carved trees/ R.I.P. (Rest In Peace)
that leave the Grand
Concourse a great
fiesta or New Orleans
funeral trails/ we
smell each other from
separate territories
my scent confines me
to specific soils
far from the
swamps & rivers
the lizard traps my
ankles without a
sound the pouch
taut round some
one’s mouth fallen
open/ “the cafecito
is sweet/ si Papi”
when I wiggle slowly
seeking my natural
state of repose
my skin is silk
to touch
tattooed/ a dogon
iguana in her
own soft-boned
splay/ but not
actually/ see/ I’m
over/ there/ no/ I’m over here/
you see
I crossed the border
right under yr eyes