On the 500th Anniversary of Nueva España

and the fires are beyond us
the project’s conclusion

i never knew the stars although
they seem to have known me

all around me the fall
where everything is gold

and silent
the birds are leaving

like so many now
i don’t want to be left alone

to the drones
above

whirring
like a record of war

Walking on the Paseo de la Reforma

above the traffic cuauhtémoc readies his spear
searching past us for something he cannot yet see
home doesn’t witness me like this

i am supposed to be invisible
but whatever pride i feel here is marred
the hands that tied cuauhtémoc’s noose

molded this statue and it is too late
for warnings i stand below the tlatoani
feeling the sculptor’s whisper

I love you, with conditions.
You are a Myth.
Be silent, like I have taught you.