I am a beautiful broken woman,
my arms separated in three levels.
Thunderous is my independent torso,
my torso of perfect size,
my torso a treasure box, an unrestricted treasure box
in which I keep the thirst that I resist.
My legs, also cut in three,
are the trinity of my dismembered temple,
transformed pieces made
they are the flow of the sea
and they sail at will.
My shattered hands are deer crowns,
that whittle their own path.
Hands so free!
I am a beheaded woman,
a glorified decapitated woman.
My head is a nimbus,
for I am the queen
and my body is the empire.
vacant in all my sovereignty.
The shackles that once held me
slid through my broken bones.
I am the liberated severed woman,
the woman without yoke or tether.
With the Storm
I carve mockingbirds and quetzals,
my saliva sends the tones to its wings.
Seawater sprouts from my throat,
the orange sun, the green jade;
I hand them over
after chewing them for five centuries.
Once carved I let them free,
in this errant world.
I leave my cry in every one of them,
and the animals that don’t walk
turn to muck
with the storm.
I have the cadence of a serpent,
time caresses me softly
and hides peacefully
in my labyrinth skin.
I glee among the rocks.
The wind that carries me
living solely within my chest.