Harrison Candelaria Fletcher
CREATION MYTHS

1 –
Coyote grasps at straws

within adobe. careful as threading. an eye of a needle. seeking a key. within river clay. opening a door. finding a face. where to belong. where to rest. beating. yearning. hammering chest. prying a way in. through cracks outside. nose to terron. warmth of fire. never understanding. the path of the clock. looking back. broken lock. turning again. toward home left behind. knowing the gnawing. echoing mind. ghost he sees. reaching hands. whispering loss. kissing sand. leaving  him howling. reflected moon. awakened from a dream.

revealed too soon –

2 –
Coyote loses himself

in a labyrinth of words. running in place. dispersing birds. bent-back lines. bric-a-brac syntax. rust-curled wire. gap-tooth fences. stumble-stone stories. scattered-leaf rhymes. digging wormholes. memory mind. metaphor. keyhole. street-light maze. ceiling floor. stolen mask. indirect direction. fragmented seer. erasure detector. two-way mirror. the deeper he looks. through guilt. through doubt. the clearer he sees. one way out. in clever evasion. he can no longer hide. face the face.

the prism inside –

3 –
Coyote wears his hyphen

as bright as the rose. he stole one evening. from a garden of strays. from a fissure in stone. from the rio grande. from a white picket fence. in suburban des moines. his parallel roots. never quite meeting. his biting stems. twisting and feeding. his two-toned petals. his ragged years. decades seeking. this courage boutonniere. its needle piercing. his pale skin. to claim a space. within the split. his public declaration. his private confession. to counter perception. of imposter accusation. only to receive. barely a glance. as the blossom he nurtured

dust in his hands –

4 –
Coyote builds an altar

of feathers of thorns. of regret of yearning. of behaviors to learn. of confessional sins. of becoming belonging. of shrine of nostalgia. of dream-haunt longing. one by one. shedding stones inside. held and watered. tended and dried. beliefs to actions. desires to declare. a pyre of words. of smoke into air. native bracelets. badges of home. another tourist. prize not his own. his mother’s name. between first and last. an appreciation. of an authentic past. turning away. from his father’s white side. reaping benefits. too obvious to hide. this tendency of his. to accentuate difference. raised above all else. with stubborn insistence. refusing to see. his tension as gift. without a fracture. no foundational shift. the sum of his parts. all pieces and holes. revealed by peeling. the mask he stole. to relinquish at last. losses held tight. to stand exposed.

to burn in light –

5 –
Coyote plays with monsters

beyond an appropriate age. flaming matches. razor blades. swapping bodies. swapping heads. making wholes. uneven edges. cutting slicing. splicing apart. pushing pulsing. mismatched heart. trying to reconcile. a split-mirror face. mask he wears. sight through tape. trying to craft. a singular being. asymmetrical halves. aligning healing. the outcasts he shapes. into a vision of his mind. toys into art. ghouls into diamonds. with heat and steel. melting rubber. a resurrection.

one from other –

6 –
Coyote wears his skin

as if it were a cloak. as if it hides the truth in his bones. inadequate inheritance. white name from white father. when all he has known. his brown-soil mother. he tells himself. he would burn his privilege to smoke. to be a single self. to relinquish this ghost. yet when he tries. to ignite this desire within. a only a shard of ash. from a wanting rubbed thin. until he acknowledges. his costume fits. he will never be seen.

as all he is –

7 –
Coyote reads his scars

like a map of questions. within his wounds. nesting answers. accidental cuts. inadvertent burns. tumbling falling. surgery sutures. he wonders aloud. what the markings say. tracks of denial. eroding age. mostly he thinks. his body as vessel. holding emotion. liquid intelligence. if all believes. is never fitting in. he becomes the malignancy. others have made him. passing his fingers. across damaged skin. imperfect flesh.

remade again –

Harrison Candelaria Fletcher is the author of Descanso for My Father, Presentimiento: A Life in Dreams, and Finding Querencia: Essays from In Between. His work has and has appeared widely in such venues as New Letters, TriQuarterly, and Puerto del Sol. He is the recipient of fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, MacDowell and Helene Wurlitzer Foundation as well as the Autumn House Press Nonfiction Prize, Colorado Book Award, and New Mexico-Arizona Book Award. A native of New Mexico, he teaches at Colorado State University and Vermont College of Fine Arts.
Read more from Cleaver Magazine’s Issue #46.

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