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