Chicano Poet

Wednesday, May 24, 2006


Henry Cracks The Da Vinci Code

Decades ago, before the Aztecs, Mayas, Olmecs,
we lay on a hotel bed together
on the south side of San Antonio,

the cactus Spanish missions
just a few miles away
preaching evil Christianity to the Indians

and ultimately to us,
fully clothed on the bed,
our sexes coiled like a mattress spring,

the cold steel of desire
does not know right from wrong
and is not expected to know as much.

But that night you sacrificed yourself
like Sor Juana Inez de la Cruz
impaled on Jesus Christ.

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