The Hidden

I am a plastic Mexican Jesus on a dashboard

a cold hard mold with seams where

doubts grow

I am imbued with the faith of a child

with a father who works for nothing

and sits on the couch with sex eyes

I am the daughter Carmen

with swollen lips and see-through dresses

who stays away after school

so she won’t have to play that game

I am the thin plastic frame that 

sits on your bathroom sill

watching what you do when no one is 

around

But I am not whatever you are

and that’s the main thing