come on down to the Mermaid Cafe

blood ancestry

sometimes i wonder if our blood is just bad
a long ago curse laid upon our line
	did some ancient  grandmother burn at the stake for consorting with the devil
	perhaps a great great aunt crossed a shaman or a witch

we have breathed anger into our lungs since we were internal
	our mothers finding bad seeds to join them
		to grow us in a petri dish of fear
							 a life of longing
				of never 
   belonging
	        in a world of calm
so we search
     	and we search
		we scream our ecstasies
			we create new blood
				we have joined others
					opening the pool	
						letting our blood mingle
							letting our children run wild and free
							
						but you rage
					and i drown
				she quakes
			and he burrows
		hiding
	hiding
hiding

we believe in our children
		our youth
		our love
	we promise our everything and smile at the altar
sometimes forever is broken

	don’t let the bad blood taint him 
		it is nothing
		a lineage of fear
			names generic and forgotten
				a secrecy of mothers 
				(the fathers they never name
  the fathers they choose to blame)
	let it be past
		let it be the voodoo of our ancestors 
		let us claim our names loudly
			peacefully

	i was given the name of my father
		i gifted my son a new name
		the name of his father
		i break the matrilineal line
	
	let him walk into the light
		the curse of generations gone
		only sweetness on his lips
			his name traced back 
				son to father 
			his grandfather’s name 
		strong and solid
	let him be safe
	let him be

let him claim his own name
	we are only placeholders
	we
	     are merely steps in evolution
			         in magic
				in curses 
and blessings






(2015)

			in my veins


horton was a white supremacist
grandma told me that he was kkk
	so i’ve put together a composite of him hooded in white
		throwing rocks at Paul Robeson and Pete Seeger

my great-grandfather was before my time
	my father only remembers something about beer refills
		about magic

and his blood runs in my veins
	just as easily and smoothly as my puerto rican grandmother’s

through the grapevine i’ve heard nothing good of horton
	only bad
	only anger
	only violence and race warfare

i am not proud of this heritage
	but i claim it
	because just as my lineage seems to whiten through the generations
	we become more accepting
		more human

grandma was raised in his house
	she was an only child
	she learned that they all look alike
		and that she was 
				     better

		       that they didn’t belong

but years later she learned to love Jessica
	 she learned that sweetness and kindness can come in black

and my father married my mother
		he dated a black woman
		and married a muslim

and i stand with Black Lives Matter
	i preach equality 

i am pretty sure that i can hear horton rolling in his grave
	angry
	and dead


		an era to leave behind