Santo from the Sun

I come when the moon is full of lavender rings,
the flamboyan’s flames fall on the still street
and follow the trail of water that leads
inside your house where you sing my name,
Indio Solarei, Indio Solarei.
I mount you. Arch your back as I stretch out
in your skin, when my chest fills with cigar
smoke and my stomach tastes the warmth of you-
sweet rum in my mouth.
I begin to sing answers you need,
the water rises from off the floor.
Sunflowers take roots in my hands.
I pull your wrinkles smooth over your face
and your wool hair hangs bone straight.
Cupping water and petals and seeds and river
stones in my hands, I’ll rub your limbs, soak your hair.
Agua Florida will anoint our knees,
and we’ll move back and forth and back,
in sync with the drum inside our body
sounding your questions, and what I foretell.
Your eyes will be my eyes.