When My Brother Was an Aztec

Maybe one day you will laugh at this—

arguing with a meth head dressed

like a Judas effigy about Jesus’s sandals.

What’s a wild bird like you need with whiteman shoes

they help us to see that it is dark

The Last Mojave Indian Barbie

Some Indians’ wisdom teeth never stop growing back in—

we were made to bite back—

until we learn to bite first

like gum they swallowed in first grade.

The grandmas return from misa, with full to the brim

estómagos and overflowing souls, to empty homes

like burritos—tight and fat como porros—to hold us

Still cries telling how she peed the bed there How the white teacher wrapped her in her wet sheets & made her stand in the hall all day for the other Indian kids to see

All this before we knew that some wounds can’t heal

He doesn’t sit in chairs anymore and is always on his feet,

hovering by the window, peeking out the door, Because,

he explains, everyone is the enemy, even you, even me.