Chicano Poet

Thursday, March 30, 2006

Henry The Applicant (after Sylvia Plath)

Are you our sort of person?
Do you hate Negroes, Mexicans, Jews,
are you toothless?

Are your breasts filled
with a saline solution,
are your privates private right now,

is your vagina pure with excitement?
Do your roller-skates fit in a teaspoon,
does your government start wars

just for the hell of it?
Do your pretty boys grow up to be gay,
do your daughters turn out sour?

When the maggots finish with you,
who eats the squirming worming?
I hope your mind is shatterproof,

I hope you have a roof over your head,
I hope your god is made of lead,
I hope your headaches hurt the galaxy.


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