Temple topped by brick and slab and priest-kissed plank.
Teotihuacan, newest world. Both led and misled
by a girl’s sullen wondrous tongue, from accident to consequence,
murderous avian profile blurred in a lucky toss. Up from the
canals, the seethe and suffocation of flowers in their millions,
to risk a world in the first thrust, a tower for each season
and a courtyard to trap the dancing wind.
The night of sorrows, when nightmare stood up on its hind legs,
headdress of bird feathers and flowers, fangs filed to starry
points, a howl that was lethal as the language of the sun,
echoing off dented armor, rinsed with cloudbursts of blood
till gleam was rusted over, shine forever gone.