One of the legacies of Columbus, which
is still very much with us in Puerto Rico,
is the legacy of colonialism.
Puerto Rico is the oldest colony in the world--
four centuries under Spain, and now nearly a century
under the United States.
One of the consequences of that is political repression
in the island.
The island is still very much in the grips of McCarthyism.
If you are in favor of independence of Puerto Rico,
you may be surveilled, harassed, you may lose your job,
you may be shunned by your neighbors,
you may even be killed.
This is a poem about a friend of mine
who's had to deal with that.
It's called "The Lover of a Subversive
is Also a Subversive."
"The lover of a subversive is also a subversive.
The painter's compañero was a conspirator.
Revolutionary convicted to haunt the catacombs of federal prison
for the next half century.
When she painted her canvas on the beach,
the FBI man squatted behind her on the sand,
muddying his dark gray suit and kissing his walkie-talkie--
a pallbearer who missed the funeral train.
The painter who paints a subversive
is also a subversive.
In her portrait of him, she imagines his long black twist
of hair.
In her portraits of herself, she wears a mask, or has no mouth.
She must sell the canvases, for the FBI man ministered solemnly
to the principal of the school where she once taught.
The woman who grieves for a subversive
is also a subversive.
The FBI man is a pale-skinned apparition,
staring in the subway.
She could reach for him and only touch a pillar of ash where
the dark gray suit had been.
If she hungers to touch her lover,
she must brush her fingers on moist canvas.
The lover of a subversive is also a subversive.
When the beach chilled cold, and the bright stumble of tourists
deserted, she and the FBI man were left alone
with their spying glances, as he waited calmly for the sobbing
to begin, and she refused to sob."