The Indian in the Back

(C) 1994 by Metta Anderson


When you're dressed in tails
     and behind your drums
You're just
     the Indian who plays drums
     with the Sinfónica.
But when they see you
     with me,
Your honey skin and high bones
     and watchful skeptical reserve
And my blue eyes and white skin and
     manners and accent that declare,
     "Super-WASP!"
Suddenly,
You're a man,
A sexual one,
With rights and history.
And they get scared.
Your history becomes
     their quaint folklore.
Preserved.
At a distance.
A far distance.
They're afraid
Because your history is the one
     they want to
     forget.
Well they should.
Your ancestors 
     were
     cannibals
And
     you
     are
     hungry.

(C) 1994 by Metta Anderson


El Indio Detrás
(C) by Metta Anderson

Cuando estás vestido de frac
     y detrás de los timbales
Eres solo el indio tocando timbales
     con la Sinfónica.
Pero cuando estás conmigo
Tu piel de miel y pómulos tan
     altos y mirada de
     escepticismo 
     reservado
Y mis ojos azules y piel blanca
     y costumbres y acento que declaran
     "Supergringa!"
De repente
Eres hombre.
Hombre sexual.
Hombre con derechos e historia.
Y ellos
se asustan.
Tu historia
se convierte en un
     folclor picaresco.
Preservado.
Guardado a una distancia.
Una distancia bien bien
     lejos.
Tienen miedo.
Porque tu historia
     es la que ellos
     quieren
     olvidar.
Bien que lo hagan.
Tus ancestros
     se dicen
Fueron
caníbales.
Y tú
tienes
hambre.


(C) 1994 by Metta Anderson
All Rights Reserved

 

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