by two serpents
to create the world,
her body became
the earth
and sky,
hair, the trees
and flowers;
springs
and fountains
flowed
from her eyes –
humanity expelled
with a grimace
from her haunches:
Only the blood
of men could appease
her for what she
sacrificed,
and temples
arose where
ceremonies
stained stones.
When the intruders
arrived, the monuments
were dismembered,
chiseled into columns
for convents,
her face planted
in the soil,
a surreptitious
song
while the monjas
chanted their
Ave Marias
above.
A millstone
was rendered
from her effigy,
a yoke
around
our necks.