I walk over archeology
relics of ancient times
and I,
fall as Tlaloc dreams
with obsidian eyes
and pulls me in,
A High Priest
wields the dagger
as a virgin weeps
of manna, blood drips
as the sacrifice triples
the alliance fell
a Jaguar stalks
in maize lines, clay stones
inlaid with gold symbols
direct to Huitzilopochtli’s throne
in codices
the prickly pear
reads of eagles
swallowing snakes
bearing
the fruit of prophets
welling from sacred earth,
the muse crumbles
in the history of the Mayans
but a prophecy ever specks
with the tongue of Nahuatl
a vision of Machu Picchu
emerges
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