The disappeared

Because they built the world

With their cocks

Rockets, skyscrapers

And warheads

They built the world

Tilting like the tower of Pisa.

What came after was war

We tried to piece together the jigsaw of their dead

They made monuments to the conflict

Granite totems

Symphony to the strong and the brave

Trumpet calls

To the survivors.

At the top of the tower

They could not see the tilt

It seemed that the softness

Gathered at its base was what swerved

Tender and pink like a little girl

Whose mouth invited kiss

Madres de los disappeared

We tried to tell them that our red womb

Our warm fleshy breasts could right the tower

Or tear it down and nurture the rubble

But to them it sounded like

The muttering of slaves

The hysteria of Babel.



Filed under Creative

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