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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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