The Ofi Press Magazine

Poem by R.M. Francis (UK)

Published in issue 39 of The Ofi Press  

Brothers and sisters met lovers at Mass –

built up their own broods and left.

But the nest is kept safe by a caretaker,

trained through teenage years –

a role lost in time. Almost lost in sum:

El Chingon sang that old corrido.

Some (amoebic cut offs from the rapes)

have slipped through the slits

and sit with calling curled fingers,

sultry smiles, hidden tines –

Cathicismos pray for their partial drupes

despite them tending nest

like good Catholics.

Muxe is an organ

without need of a name –

in the city they say s/he may

sit on your face as you sleep,

but down in Putla

they care for the nests.