Brown Girl Manifesto (Too)

Metaphor     metaphor     my pestilential aesthetic
      A tsunami powers through     my mother’s ruins
Delta     delta     moist loins of the republic
      Succumb to the low-lying succubus     do!

Flagpole     flagpole     my father’s polemics
      A bouquet of     fuck-u-bastard flowers
Fist me     embrace me     with your phantom limbs
      Slay me     with your slumlord     panegyrics

Flip over     so I can see your pastoral mounts
      Your sword     slightly parting     from the scabbard
Girl skulls     piled like fresh-baked loaves
      A foul wind     scours my mother’s cadaver

Ornamental     Oriental     techno     impresarios
      I am your parlor rug     your chamber bauble
Love me     stone me     I am all yours
      Pound     Pound     my father’s Ezra

Freedom     freedom     flageolet-tooting   girls
Dancing     on the roof     of the maquiladoras