I will alphabetize the authors of my insecurities and burn my Alexandria.

Las Posadas, oh, a lot of, tequila mañana.
I listen to Mexican Radio in my room.
Sit in my bed and
wait for tomorrow.

I do not know why the caged bird sings,
nor why I chose to stay inside on
the sunniest day of the year.

There were no birds, no songs, and no cages.
Only shadows of your house on the backyard.

His teeth feral teeth
and putrid breath

does not correlate
with the pale shoulders

and soft ways of
the woman with him;

somehow they make
the Multiflora

rose, rise
and blossom.

Oh, my God, who did
Scare. I turn upward my eyes,
Walk, and faith my fears.

We head to visual court to give our testimony.
Blood rush to the podium of my neck
where another lover once bit.
I keep these bruises for you and I
to remember why we can't be together.