“the indians blacken their faces with carbon in a sign
of the concretization
of their cruel vengeance”
as the father-of-saint tells pinto
to shave the sides of his head
yellow tufts thrown to the gale
dispersed into mouths
we will never see encase us
as hollow shafts prod their cheeks
breaking but also bursting
feathers like stalks of weed praying
within the cracks of seeded
eyes & waste molded into
2 chickens’ pilgrimage across brazil
first our grandmothers died
& then our mothers
& our eyes turned green
in an ensanguined mass of chicken breast
i asked pinto
how can you live like this
& remain a chick
while my goose bumps turn gray
from the martyrdom of industrial farm life
soiling boiling water under desertified sky
& now a crown of flowers brambles our scalded heads
the feeling of blossoming on the cross by which
jchrist is queen by his solidarity with queers
our lady is brazil by her solidarity with
orixás
jchrist is chicken by his solidarity with hens
the hen spills blood on the ground by her
solidarity before
nails pounded into wild bird sky