Barely more than a smudge
on the road, a photo without
torso, arms, face,
eyes, a photo without a
body, without clothes. A
photo without co-ordinates.
During the interrogation,
I was asked no questions.
I said nothing, observed a man in gray suit,
Even his face was painted gray,
His eyelids a dark blue.
He was dancing a galliard
In the shadows of a statue
Of Galileo. I said nothing,
O avocado
that cannot sleep
through the night in its mesh bowl
O Sinaloan lychee
whose brightness confounds
those who harvest and pack it in perforated pails
And then we were in Amatenango del Valle
expelled by the jungle
beyond the acacia and Brahma bulls
and choked hyacinth tanks
a few clicks up the blacktop
from Teopisca