Ave del Paraíso

A poem by Maria Antonia Villegas Botero

survivors guilt means that

were i to have another day with you

i’d dress in your coca leaf,

save your from your manufactured thirst,

pour my blood directly into

the ribbons of your grieving throat

ripped open by desperate doctors

slashed by second hand tubes

you would cry into my mouth

so i could drool out solid gold

and return what they stole from our mothers’ graves.

for breakfast,

we would chew on handfuls of

american bullets

american rifles

and for dessert,

lick colombian feet hidden in american leather

until every tooth fell out and cursed

our twin mouths,

we would inhale gliphosate like incense

until i could finally escape from

the reflection of your casket

in yesterday’s cathedral windows

i would tear apart the tank that roams your street

bolt for bolt

until my hands looked like yours

crooked and ancient and scarred

from service to an indifferent God