by Audri | Writing |

Made In Mexico (& we tend to pay less) - by Audri

She's a knee rising to cover face immolation
huddled in Mexico paper sun stains
red clay hands to reach for
hummingbird amulets off dirt roads
& day of the dead posters
the same day she hit hands first
cement flecks under skeleton skin
"Tiene cuidado"
watching or skipping train tracks
(I find it unrelenting)
She said Americans didn't have stars
but signs & city limits
looks a bit like garden grove
desolate as Bakersfield
but still casting the same
burrito wrapped sky

Swimming towers of light &
flies of metal wing span
pooling down until all you hear is
Her sandalwood scent of knowing
"winter meals weren't much warmer"
Tin roofed nights when hail would
count off to the trumpets
of Jamaican influences, pressure on limbs
on bones
they move without ever flowing
& breathing in dusty
words to age on there own

("no me toca")

She'll fight it off later
& a sleep used to fill her up
with still pictures
of her heart in potion colors
of her abuelita in mud brick towns
of her.
of her.