Your offer is more than generous
to ransom me back from Maya devils
and join your conquest as chief informant.
I would have rejoiced at this God-given chance
when the hurricane hurled that toothpick ship
against white coral reefs and I awoke
stranded spread-eagle on a stone altar
with bird men holding obsidian knives
and my balls. Now I struggle to match
verb with subject and salvage Spanish nouns
as badly as a senile priest trying
to remember names of parishioners.
You would not know my tatooed face, Hern
Copyright © Ken Goosens