For Neida

What is black, white, and red all over if not checkered

flannel and blood: the Chola enclosure.

Forgive me, Father, for I have survived despite cops’

best efforts to send me into that good night.

Two times now, I’ve gone running with pigs at my back, hoping,

wishing, my little siblings see me get back.

I was in the fields fighting those red clowns, but in

my heart of hearts, I’m not truly down.

I ripped off their paisley bandanas, all

for the girl who called me ‘mana.

Por mi culpa por mi culpa por mi gran culpa, the

navy beads on my neck, son mi disculpa,

I pray for a rider, the ones with polished metal, to

take my siblings far away to something betta’,

I rebel, I rebel to stay in the house tonight,

there’s a war on the streets, and I have been asked to fight.

My mother won’t look at me, and my father’s gone cold,

and the only gift I’ve gotten was not to grow old,

I turned fourteen, grabbed a switchblade, dark lip liner,

and concealer to hide my new shiner.

Cordero de dios, que quitas el pecado del mundo,

nos dejastes en esa casa y eso no fue justo

The only love I know is from the end of a belt,

and my brother and my sister don’t know the hand they been dealt.

So hear out my bargain as it stays between you and me,

the three dots on my cheek mean the holy trinity

Keep me from losing breath while I run on the gravel,

and send us an angel with nimbus and dazzle,

for you my lord I’ll lay down the navy

if you keep my parents away from us babies.