New York City,

At 4:54 am you pull
the crimson curtains shut
refuse dawn her entry
we give into
your brutal softness
& the pounding vibrations
of another spinning record

We are your bastard children
the ones who run the streets aimless
never having known your breast

We are the boys
spray painting you blue
claiming you as our territory ‘cause
we believe ourselves invincible
You watch as we
crack and collide

We are the girls
baring our hard nipples
shaking our thighs
dancing until needles break
and toes dislocate
split open our wrists
for you

We are the lovers who
crossed oceans and sold our fortunes
on a whim 'cause we believe all the stories
about your pussy tasting like wine
and your eyelashes of gold
we believe our shimmering dreams
and lover’s song will bed you our wife

You let the symphonies and
painted postcards
live on every street corner
’cause you are always hungry
and dreams feed your vanity...

You give what you can
amphetamines, neon signs
cheap plastic and busted capillaries
make your lovers cum and bleed
at the same time
then tell them to

"GET THE FUCK OUT"
the rent is too high.

Your spine runs electric
from Coney Island to Pelham Bay
Seduce April and May
pin your hair up with cherry blossoms
scent of ginger between your breasts
even the August moon wants a taste of you

Bury your secrets deep
bury them deep
in the pit of your womb
shattered bones
of your first children

Senaca, Cayuga, Lenape

The only ones who knew your skin
free and open to the wind

before the ships and steel
before the calloused hands of Wall Street

The tribes gathered

Congo, Benin, Ashanti
bringing drums and incense
We gather bring you
drums and incense

Sometimes you accept our offerings
spread the dawn of your skirt
to sit silent &
hear us tell your story.

 -C.Izaguirre 2009