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Poema 31
by Flor de té

Right hand wrestle with me

and you'll see
that my right index finger can flip meteorites to the moon

that my finger tip moons will carve rivers that buoy
the seeds of the coco-de-mer

that with my right hand
I can blind the sun

right hand wrestle with me
and you'll know

that my magical fingers once veiled an oblong tin frame
that professed God sees all hears all knows all

plus the ugly horned devils below writhing in an inflamed
malevolent hell

right hand wrestle with me
I will guide your fingertips over the splintered wood

of cots where nuns wreathed in thorns
did penance and prayed in convents awake

right hand wrestle with me
and I'll tell you what a Quechua once told me

she said when we die
we simply step out of our skin


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