A Red Giant Rises High above Aztlan
for a Painter in Missouri

to offer you the Oaxacan songbird of my heart,
for it croons, guey, and soon, I, too, will procure that tune,
splice open this cage of avid ribs and swoon,
while love looms monstrously, like an odd red star—
so lustrous, guey, so lustrous.
And for us, that magnificent bird will ascend, then, this
bony ladder, perched atop
my pecho, he will soothe you, babe—Verás. Verás.
Your hands, mi cielo!
That marvelous jaguar of your eye! Malleability!
What tributaries and tribulations, guey!
The Gulf of mis ojitos, the bravest rio de los tuyos—
They’ve enjoined, so I’ve crafted this tribute of maize
and maldiciones; I bludgeon aloneness for you,
Hunt butterflies, gather bullets;
Cushion of my panza and my penance—
Will you allow me? I could cradle you, cariño.
Could cradle you, serio.