Pg. 57 — DANZANTES by Joshua Gage
In Monte Albán, the Southern Platform waits
for People of the Clouds to reappear.
Pilgrims swear these pyramids still ache
to feel the saucers’ weight and hear their purrs.
The halls where interstellar strangers taught
have toppled into rubble and debris.
These mammoth stones where aliens once walked
are now no more than ruins veiled with weeds.
Archeologists who read these texts
bear witness to the price this knowledge cost,
the ghosts that echo from the ashlar seams.
Can you hear the snap of joints, the screams
of frenzied dancers, their broken bodies tossed
against relentless drums to treat these guests?