POEM OF THE WEEK: Rafael E. Gonzalez
Rafael E. Gonzalez
Quetzalcoatl
n.
Quetzalcoatl plumed snake: elegance
in the sun’s gold. Quetzalcoatl slithers
and spine. Human sacrifice, a heart
held with one hand and lifted upward.
In cupped hands, I offer the remaining
semen. You swat my hand and tell me,
“I’m not about to eat your dead babies.”
Oh, blue eyes, if you only understood
what the eagle perched on the cactus
meant—or why it’s eating a snake.
Quetzalcoatl rising star of the East. Deity
of creation. Christ framed in serpent
and gems. In the Zócalo, I see men invoking
the sun with sage. In the same fashion,
I pull you towards me and blow
cigarette smoke—you choke. This is my
collection of fake gems, this is me not caring
for where the accent goes. Quetzalcoatl
myth and deliver. Quetzalcoatl bird
man and snake.
Photo by Danielle Celaya
Rafael E. Gonzalez lives in Tucson, AZ where teaches at the University of Arizona and is a poetry editor for DIAGRAM.
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