Brown Girl Manifesto (Too)

Metaphor     metaphor     my pestilential aesthetic A tsunami powers through     my mother’s ruins Delta     delta     moist loins of the republic Succumb to the low-lying succubus     do! Flagpole     flagpole     my father’s polemics A bouquet of     fuck-u-bastard flowers Fist me     embrace me     with your phantom limbs Slay me     with your slumlord     panegyrics Flip over     so I can see your pastoral mounts Your sword     slightly parting     from the scabbard Girl skulls     piled like fresh-baked loaves A foul wind     scours my mother’s cadaver Ornamental     Oriental     techno     impresarios I am your parlor rug     your chamber bauble Love me     stone me     I am all yours Pound     Pound     my father’s Ezra Freedom     freedom     flageolet-tooting   girls Dancing     on the roof     of the maquiladoras