Stomach Pains

By Niki Esko

[use your voice]

"Nixim Matahum
or Splendid thing that sprouts from the earth and blooms in the air"



She comes to me in s p e c k s of dust trail i n g
behind green moths
reminders
of inexperienced choices
that led me to her

miraculous fluttering.

Inescapable.

I found her name in a dream
about war,
isolation,
blood,
and resilience.
A path dips and twists before me.
It is layered with black thorns, ditches, grey mud,
whips, rosaries, and chains.

I welcome it
on both knees.

A seed sprouting two sets of roots
needs twice as much good soil
and so I will give it
in the marvelous bullets of Ricardo Flores Magon,
Praxedis Guerrero's callous free and dustless knees,
the quick breaths of Jose Garcia Villa,
and the fist of Sixto Lopez.

She will know the curly tongues of invasive insects,
feel the emerald beating of hummingbird wings,
endure the burn of red suns and
the unstoppable unraveling of winter--
frost on her leaves.
For her
protection: the poetry of Hagedorn, Villanueva, the
pidgin artillery of Linmark,
the feet of Ninotchka,
Sandra Cisneros' never
marry a Mexican,
and Moraga's lessons on
Loving in the War Years
because that is when it's needed most.

As her petals close for the night,
stories of the epic Battle of Mactan
and Lapu-Lapu will sweeten her

or a folktale of why mango trees laugh
as one passes will open more possibilities
for sleep
and for mourning.