in the belly of the beast

what will you do, little jariri?
your welcome is worn
your mother's breasts are as dry as the dust in your eyes
and there is no god to take mercy on your shrill, serrated cries

but you are brand new

and the slick black waters sinking into your father's crops
are as much a dream as the lush lands of far away you'll only imagine
to sooth the starving beast in your belly

on the days when you know there is a god
because you are under the magnifying glass
with sun concentrate on your face and no wind at your back
because your neighbors break each other open
with machetes tied up in marionette strings
and cholera trickles into your brother's slurping, swallowing mouth

but you are brand new
what will you do?