by Nelly Geraldine García-Rosas
It started with a bang.
The rumble of machines.
bang bang bang
Then, electric cables
Deep they dug —legs, blue feathers.
Deep they worked —blood, her torso.
Deep she was awoken —two arms, bells.
Her head: the Moon.
[la cabeza / Coyolxauhqui's
con cascabeles / rattled
de Coyolxauhqui / head]
Southern stars, her siblings,
began to fall.
Observatorio metro station:
[fuego emplumado / feathered fire]
He came afterwards: a fully armoured feathered-Sun
re-born from the innermost depths of
the Tacubaya metro station
—earth once impregnated by feathers—.
in cuautli in ocelotl
Huitzilopochtli, the fratricidal warrior,
from the orange snake lair.
Blood on the stairs of the Zócalo metro station.
[Sangre en las escaleras del Templo Mayor /
blood on the stairs of Templo Mayor]
Her body reaches terminal velocity,
ends up in pieces
as far as Tláhuac, El Rosario, Pantitlán.
Her head, in flames,
flees Mexico City [Tenochtitlán],
pierces the atmosphere.
feathered silver light
She becomes the Moon.
It ends like an ultraist poem:
aai o aaiio a o a aaaiiiiiiiia
Nelly Geraldine García-Rosas is Mexican and recently moved with her fiancé and three cats to Calimaya, a little town near an extinct volcano and not so far from Mexico City. She writes mostly in Spanish, but sometimes she tries to create stories with her broken/robotic English. Her work has appeared in anthologies like The Apex Book of World SF 3, Future Lovecraft and Mexican SF webzines like Penumbria. She can be found online at NellyGeraldine.com and on Twitter as @kitsune_ng
Photography: adapted from Fire your guns!, by Emilio Küffer.