Standing
on a Paper Constitution
I feel the pain of my ancestors crawling on my skin
like an army of ants out for revenge.
I
hear the ghosts of mestizo and mulatto slaves negotiating
their release
through
a wall of ivory history books
fat
with the absence of their shadows.
I
want the liberties promised when the ink dried
because
I am standing on a paper constitution
buckling
with the weight of the dark one.