Craig Santos Perez
Our Lady of Non-Perishable Love
We would’ve starved without you, Our Lady
of Rations. You arrived to our war torn island
and saved us from hunger. We built altars to you
in our pantries. Today, we’re your largest congregation,
Our Lady of Miracle Meats. We pay tribute
each year at the Spam Jam in Waikiki, a feast day
where devotees transfigure you into haute cuisine
and ice cream. I dream of pilgrimage to your sacred
birthplace, now museum, in Austin, Minnesota.
I’ll kneel at your factory’s squealing walls,
where 20,000 pigs are sacrificed to you, daily,
Our Lady of Slaughter. Forgive me, I’ve been on a diet
after my doctor warned me: false idol, devil
in a blue and yellow dress. Since I’ve left your cargo
cult, I miss your dirty secrets, your gelatinous
communion. But deep down in my belly,
I know you’ll always be here for us
in our hour of emergency.
Ars Poetica
When the tide
of silence
rises, say:
“ocean”—
then, with
the paddle of
your tongue,
rearrange
the letters
to form
“canoe.”
Disarming a Nation
can we be safe
anywhere, if
our military commits
mass shootings
everywhere else?
can we control
guns at home,
if our government
uncontrollably
sells them abroad?
can we end
our toxic culture
of violence,
if our country wages
endless wars
of terror?
can we disarm
a nation,
if we don’t demilitarize
our imagination?
Genealogy
i wish
i was the dream
of ancestors
and not
the anarchy
of descent