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Canela MAG
January 8, 2017
These days,
I take my tea with
a shot of Cuervo.
It’s a sacred drowning.
The gulf inside my stomach
swallowing itself,
shards of obsidian,
so many broken spears.
All of my ancestors rot at
the bottom of my belly.
Their broken languages
wash up in my mouth,
dissolve in the air
like a mispronounced prayer.
© Anonymous
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