Voodoo Poem by L.B. Temuco

I cannot forget
falling snow
the liquid eyes of foxes
glisten like porcelain
broken in moonlight
dissolute bones resting
beneath the unchanging climates of the earth
listen to the earth, hear this, dark Cherokee
listen again, hear your footsteps
arriving and departing
feel everything open and sway
sail in the wind over the venous geometry of leaves
how gently God leaves us
how difficult is forgetting, this grief
for invisible things
You are the Loa of honey, of Morts
of the Mystere and the Water
of loss nothing withers or falls
no soul becomes lost
without wanting
Listen, hear this, dark Cherokee
listen, in your kingdom
under the sea
where oysters open their white hearts
until the water fills with colour
until your limbs languish in spent iridescence
I lay between your burning oars
the fallen boughs of your arms
lay like a crucifix on which I bleed
how slowly my hands rust
without air
suffocate me
and the cane burns
I cannot open my mouth to breathe
I am trapped in
the blue carapace of the night
I turn red in the heat