Mixed Blood

I want torture in my past.

My Guatemalan side turmoils.
Spanish ancestors clearing
Indian ancestors and jungle.
Children play around
the coffee fincas,
exact facial features strictly ignored.

The German in me squirms.
Crossed before the war
but of the remaining
did they turn left or right?
when Hitler reigned.

I look to the Scottish.
They killed in hordes
buried kilts and bagpipes deep
to forget the stirring chanter.

I notice flesh tinted paints,
the color is not mine
I could be Redneck,
Spick, Nazi or Scot.

My limbs burn brown

quickly in the heat.


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