This knife is as long as my wife in the pool
and I am as dark as the sun
The silence from the moon is as dark when we sleep

I always bring my captives here
and let the grapevines choke them

The stars will crash and last for years
I grin at them and give them fruit
I am an expert at my job
I am their home

I spend the morning writing letters
while the machines crush the priest
I remember their flat runways
when they stripped for weddings

It was the death of all the warriors
and their enemies
When the wind screamed around their feet
I would listen to my knife

It was the time to pull their hearts out
and give them to the children

I have given them the wings to heaven
and they are my last legend
frozen like the hands of a small monkey

We call their last sounds the wind
This sound brings us childhood
as if it were life
These are the days of our calendar

Our children pray to them
and play with their hearts with sticks
We pray to the children and their sticks
and it rains for hours on the crops

Lightning makes the trees smell like my knife
As long as the heart is quiet we are waterproof

I am the king of the shade in the green jungle
The people hurry to see my accidents
The mothers among them hold their children
up to me as ixiptlas

Their small bones make very little noises
and their small eyes will become
beans for Texcatlipoca

They exchange gifts
Some of them have not seen
each other since the last rain.