The Ruins of Mexico
I cannot mourn among these stones
when they draw upon themselves
fronds of lightning and ignite
the laughter of a glistening jubilee
in this year, in this tawny summer
of another liberation of the heart.
It is cast upon a stone, russet altar
taking to itself a heart upon
the heart of the sacred.
I am led in hot plumage and a tinkling
of obsidian and jade moves about
my head and the rush of breath alter
in the knowing what it is: The sun
is brandishing gods from the summits
of our hills in Europe, Asia, and here
on the pyramids of Teotihuacan.
So I am circumscribed by happiness.
Boys play football in the ruined courts,
and they are brought together with goals
won as the clouds collide and announce
a laughing night, a wrench at chest, with rain.
Published: Quadrant, July 1984