There's not always a welcome in the hillsides of Peru, even if you're Peruvian.
The cordillera enchantress
prescribed
guinea pig
to unravel your future
she raised it
like some sacrifice
and called it jaca
the Inca CT scanner
skating your face in close up
yak pelt hanging, enamel tusks chattering
a rodent dowser, turning blood clear
divining you
sniffing your strange Pacific smell
of a world away, down mountains,
through deserts to people who bleed
a cocktail of invasion
throat slit, viscera spread
as a giblet yarn
the split creature spills secrets
to his voice on Earth
the remedy arrived at dawn
a shaven cavy
slug in your doorway
flies drawing from it's pink well of death
clove breath claws, stings the air
she appears at your shoulder
her tongue flapping your one way ticket
back to the coast.
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