I have slipped chile under your skin
Secretly wrapped in each enchilada
hot and soothing,
carefully cut into bitefuls for you as a toddler
increasing in power and intensity as you grew
until it could burn
forever
silently spiced into the rice
soaked into the bean caldo
smoothed into the avocado
I have slipped chile under your skin
drop by fiery drop
until it ignited
the sunaltar fire
in your blood
I have squeezed cilantro into the breast milk
made sure you were nurtured with the taste
of green life and corn stalks
with the wildness of thick leaves
of untamed monte
of unscheduled growth
I have ground the earth of these Américas in my molcajete
until it became a fine and piquant spice
sprinkled it surely into each spoonful of food
that would have to expand to fit your soul
Dear Son
Dear Corn Chile Cilantro Son
This
is your herencia
This
is what is yours
This
is what your mother fed you
to keep you
alive
