Poem: Pinata

Pinata

String them up, lasso and haul them to a tree,
burros and zebras and primitive horses,
nooses around necks. We shake them in the air.
We beat them, and they give sustenance,
confetti like colors, fireworks of dismemberment
decapitation, singing and dancing.

Blindfolded, I spot on your voice.
You, to whom I've only spoken two words:
Hello and a splutter, some travesty of love.
You, for whom I spin, a moon about a planet,
you call out and I wish it were for me
when really, you are asking for another burger.

Facing the direction of your voice I swing
throwing my entire weight into this bat
beating a poor pig into a pulp
until the others jump on me, pull me back
as if from a fistfight in which I keep swinging.