Because AD wanted to hear this poem,
"Further Notes from the Art Institute,"
Xipe Totec, Carved Wood and Human Skin, circa 1450.
Tonight, dear one, by the waning moon,
I will take this jet shard, keen with mercy,
along the seam of your rigorous spine
and flay a proficient suit of you for my finery.
Dear one, your raw and fecund sinew
assures my bounty another harvest,
another generation of hands emptied hanging
like bracelets from my arms.
Your handsome face, a better countenance
from my high cheeks.
I see through the slats of your eyes.
I speak incantation and renewal--
my tongue aligned along your lips.
Do not mourn your blued and sanguine life elapsing
along the groove of this blade.
What is driven through the veins turns crimson,
adorns the living with promise.
Sacrifice preserves order in the universe.
I will wear your skin, dear one, among your own people.
They will always mistake me for kind.