POEM OF THE WEEK: Rafael E. Gonzalez


Rafael E. Gonzalez






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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