I.
i want to stop hurting my mother
la tierra, this earth
who cradled my mother
when she cradled me in the ocean of her womb
my mother who, covered in dust and pesticides,
says to me as she washes her hands to eat
“el agua es lo mas bonito que nos ha dado dÍos”
and in kettleman and lenaire
you just don’t drink from the tap

II.
are we so different?
you are afraid
and i am afraid
my pores suck in the same thick valley air
that your pores are breathing
our nostril hair sways in the same rhythm
don’t you see that you are me?
and can’t you see who we could be together?

can’t we see each other the way we see each other
when we kiss each other?
(eyes closed and feeling everything?)

this is a call to arms
arms that link together
that wrap around shoulders shaking with sobs

III.
we are too late
the earth is dying
our sisters enslaved to a paycheck
our brothers shot dead on mckinley avenue

IV.
my poems all sound the same now
same syllables, same consonants
same ssssssound

ssssssolidarity
a whisper in the darkness of your ear canal

sssssstruggle against
police pepper spray
against las manos rojas de sangre
against u.s. customes agents who touch me and dig in my pockets
until i am nauseaus with digust

sssssstruggle against paychecks disintingration into dust
our flesh turned to teflon
i am scared too
won’t you join me?