The Fiery Reclaiming

I’m gonna burn this house down

Set it on fire - incinerate its Western architecture

and watch as the flames eat their way

down to the backbone – only to find in its place a

mush of attempted coups on another body.

This is an insipid restructured

facade. Let’s watch it engulf

itself on top of our ancestor’s stove.

Lets marvel as its mouth

hisses at the rising teeth of majestic Mesoamerican spirits. The fiery

ceremony melting away at the

powdered wigs in

renamed halls. Let it

burn further down than

Zultepec. Further down than the

swallowed accents and edited

annunciations. Further down

than the displaced worries

of terracota weeping mothers.

I want it to burn down

and have the flames

spread across neighborhoods and stop at

the paletero's spot. I want to

melt the ICE paralyzing the schoolyard

and scorch the blazing guns of those fighting

grandmothers with walking canes.

When the sun sets, I want

the skies to be illuminated by the

dazzling brown bodies of the natives.

And when the moon rises, I

want the fiery reclaiming of our

homes to be on the last page of this story.