every spring
a cavalcade bears the boy
he holds a rose on his tongue —
a first communion.

under ceremonial skirt
feet dangle
clinging to the paper horse’s ribcage
as vines on a trellis.

boy in a dress,
do you know your name?
why you hide your face
under your red veil?

is it to bring a gentle revolution
falling softly on your people like velvet petals?
is it to laugh among them
cawing with your swords unsheathed?

ride with care, chosen child!
in the dress your mother made
Hlas lidu, hlas boží.
and the whole town waits for you

sami h. tripp has lived in Minowakiing (“Milwaukee”) since 2013. They read once that, in Kaqchikel, poetry translates to “braid of words,” and like to believe they’re honoring ancestors (past and present) by braiding seemingly unlike things together. A historian and poet, they consider themselves to be a real-life bard.