I am the voice of sorrow and yearning,
the yearling pup howling. Hollow came I
into being, incised in my body
holy things, jaguar and condor. Men took
me to their lips, swallowed my offerings;
I wore smooth with so many mouths,
so many hands grasping me by the ears.
Now, I am lonely with abandonment.
My body splits with age; I shrink.
If once I was buried, what grave robber
sold me? Hollow am I, unfilled
and cold, emptied of purpose. Once,
I was more than ornament, trophy
to be hoarded, catalogued, shown.