Up in the wounds of tall trees, sent up like embers
From her kicking feet: she is dancing atop the
Spines of
Rattlesnakes and pinecones- making love to something
Bigger in the woods:
Mexicans are laughing in the next room to
Their dead brothers;
And all of the forest burns with whistling tongues stretching
Out across a green fairgrounds where the bears
Lay sleeping with butterflies upon the like jewelry,
And airplanes like angels leaving the sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem