pinto and the dream of the unified jungle
pinto and the misdiagnosed neurosyphillis
pinto and the hiv he hid from me
out of the wheelchair he rolled down the stairs
where the air looked like a window
i, warrior at the bottom of the stairs
my tropicalia garb my plastic butterfly mask
my wooden glass-cracking dagger
because of the virus’ sudden visibility
i could mutate into pinto’s mother
the world clicking at us like the maw of a gator
i felt wings once more under the skin on my back
pinto fucked me like a child
i learned to wrap myself round his veins
vines twisting and snapping off any blackened limbs
so numerous chickens could
grow out of his body in disfiguring protrusions
pinto quivered
hologram and heart of palm
a white core, oblong, promising germination
a thunderbolt like a bridge
to everything that flies into our vortex
to die and be born, waves of worm and flesh
impregnating my face cracked again
on a crucifix