El Ocho Patas

If you must know
my mother was a spider

she dug up
tortillas in the backyard

my barrio was stolen
by a girl in trenzas

my cousin
took all the trees to town

the police arrested
the color brown

my mother
spun her web

caught
her  Sunday sons

the wind would bring its knife
to shake us blue

the barrio got by
with what gente it could get its hands on

and if you must know
I spit like a spider with my feet