There Is No San Lenín

i know there’s no blue prince
like the beast of the apocalypse removed

separated by mountain chains      lenín
is my revolution*      my destination

into the clouds     of his name
an all-ism forcing me into exile

lenín is thirst and craving
is the human man made true

        /\         /\         /\         /\

and what fat chance this
cumulus sundry sums a bold thing lofty

enough to break regimen      situated 
in the garden of theoretical significance

the gocho is wearing an unusual hat
el timotocuica is bright and shy

*because of his revolutionary activities
lenín is exempt from sainthood

Copyright © 2022 by Chip Livingston. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on November 10, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.

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“‘There Is No San Lenín’ completes a series of poems I wrote, Saints of the Republic, combining the researched biographies of various saints with the lives of real or imagined lovers—in this case a real one, a guapo Gocho/Timotocuica from the Andes of what is now Venezuela.”
—Chip Livingston