Loca loca loca
The word is dissonance:
Cheekbone meeting palm
The static of a mic
Turned on too soon
*
It started
//with a safety pin\\
started with gentle
//metal beneath skin\\
craving safety of thought
//in the glide, the glide, the glide\\
*
A pin only pierced the memories
without letting them bleed
Wandering eyes count the scars on my hand
but fail to see the rubies peeking through jeans
*
It is only years later that I learn
the Tarahumara of Chihuahua healed
through bleedings: Rivers of red from
a curandera’s precision
The knowledge unblocked
A dam of guilt
Loca loca loca
When all I wanted was to find
Dios en mi sangre