Concerning the Necropolitical Landscape

Dear Mother // I apologize for these instructions regarding

my belated death // but police keep pestering parents on

where to shake their child’s ashes // fuck that // Dance &

laugh my ashes into the volcanoes [volcanoes look like Earth’s

pimples // about to burst] Dear Mother // I hope neither of

us dies but rather // we drift into alzheimers together like

Abuela years ago // We can walk out of the house in our

bathrobes // waving at police cars & thinking they’re taxis

taking fathers home // Dear Mother I haven’t told you but

bombs in Chelsea were so close to me last fall // I fell &

prayed to Holy Nuns of the Erectile Dysfunction Committee

but still // I’ll never understand why // God made something

so beautiful as the sun // on the ridge // to be blinding

Dear Mother // I’ve been much too slow to say thank you

The word twisted on my tongue // I stutter to say th-thanks!!

& maybe it’s my accent // unable to pronounce refrigrator

En español // refrigerador // As if our language was a child

who wet the bed from being tickled too much // & if we only

speak one language // can we name her Joy // Dear Mother

I’ve read the credit report // & America fiscally sponsored the

Civil War in El Salvador // where men had genitals cut off

stuffed into their mouths // their heads decapitated & placed

between their legs // Tio saw all his friends // students slumped

on chain link fences // after marching outside the university

As a child // I never thought how difficult it must’ve been to

pick the heads of daisies with me // by the swimming pool

Each petal pulled // I’d recite // he loves me // he loves me not

God must // in the most bloated nights // the fullest nights

God must’ve known // you’d follow me outside “heaven’s gates”

What an oxymoron // There must be a heaven that’s boundless &

unbridled // where we can seek asylum // Dear Mother // please

teach me how to hold the sorrow // without losing my arms