What I know

You think I don't know how to make the sea

dance for me

tossing the frothy hem of her skirts high up into the sky?

I've seen her dance and I know the parts

of the atumpan that makes her toss her skirts

the highest

I know how to eat the moon

to preserve the light

when gray skies move in,

how to wear the stars in my hair at dawn

to keep the greedy sun from gobbling them forever,

I know how to keep the river in the soles of my feet

so I never forget the way home,

I learned these things from my mother

who learned from her mother

who learned from her mother

who learned from the river

who learned from earth

who learned from the sky.

These are lessons woven into my skin

like lace

I never forget to run my fingertips over my breasts

before lifting them up

to call the sky home.