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 dark as we sleep

I always bring my captives here

and let the grapevines choke them

The starts 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.