engender s/he gods of the blue/green plate
who bear and frame bird, fish, rattlesnake, tree,
the forest and hollow, mountains’ loose aggregate
to witness, more to worship, creation,
from womb-sky, womb-earth, those who beget
the puma, pit viper, in dictation
where word is wing, and name is falconet.
Bid talk, they only squawk or clatter, roar
unholy roars. S/he tries anew with clay
to make a creature able to adore.
When clay alone dissolves and crumbles, they
experiment this time with chiseled wood.
But wooden limbs and cores devoid of soul
aren’t worthy. “Holi Huki,” stones (who stood
the grinding) chant, this time reversing roles:
the molcajete grinds the wooden men
to meal, the griddle burns him who burned them
and “Holi Huki” the trashed mannequin
becomes the jungle’s proto-hominem.
But from the meal the molcajete makes,
a masa humana finds shape and breath
and from the s/he gods’ blue/green bowl partakes
along with life, kindness, worship, in death.
While monkeys' faces may ape our own grin,
in earthly nurture, maize is ancient kin.