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Tents held up with raggedy cloth
signal that the merchants are here
no books are for sale
about the importance of hair
about the blood of revolt
about braids
Spanish soldiers
transform Indian slave women
into Spanish maidens
Pueblo Indians
revolt in 1680
drive Spanish
out of New Mexico
for every one Spaniard killed
one woman the reward
. . . mira, que si te quise, fué por el pelo
Camilia
whose life
is worth that of one Spanish soldier
left home in search of bright dresses
and tight sashes
she wanted the real perks
of marrying into sangre
but all Camilia got
was a stone machete haircut
courtesy of her husband
vieron como cayó
como una muñeca de trapo on the ground
cuentos that no one ever wrote about
told how
with her head at his feet
he wiped his weapon with her tresses
. . . ahora que estás pelona ya no te quiero*
Maria Rosalie
acted without permission
left the premises called her home
without checking with her master
Don Francisco Armijo
who used his whip
to etch his name on her back
his honor on her legs
then took scissors to her braids
threw them in her face
bristly strands in her eyes
she promised to repay him
mira, que si te quise, fué por el pelo
In your next life, Francisco
hear my voice caress your temples
my fingers along the wrinkles
on your neck
did you hear how Maria Francesca
tied a belt around her husband's breath
while her mother cut into his chest
. . . ahora que estás pelona ya no te quiero
this tickle that haunts you will make you wonder
if it's my braids wrapped around your heart
if it's my betrayed locks teasing the skin behind your arms
as you wait I weave
my song
our daughters grow their hair in remembrance
immigrating, laboring, our sons' hair was cut
our daughters grow their hair in remembrance
educated, incarcerated, our sons' hair was cut **
and before
when our sons were also men
our daughters' hair was cut
in penance
our daughters' hair was cut
in penance
mira, que si te quise, fué por el pelo
ahora que estás pelona ya no te quiero.
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