I thank ytbard for her example, edits, and genius at redirecting me to rewrite my sonnet when she found I wrote better lines than her suggestions.

A day after arriving in Puerto Vallarta, I walked my Chihuahua down a hill and saw nailed to a crossroads' telephone pole a carving of a demon. It may have been used as protection for a garden that ran up the hill. Before I could return with my camera the next day, someone smashed the sculpture, leaving behind an amputated hand attached to the pole.

Several days later while walking Mina about one hundred feet uphill from where the demon carving had hung, she stopped to relieve herself at a young palm tree. I looked up and saw the demon's headless, armless body wedged in the branches. I believe that Easter week in a Catholic country was the reason that one faithful stood and cast out this demon idol from the crossroad.

An Oaxacan Indian artisan likely carved the demon from soft wood and painted the body white as an undercoat to cover the woodgrain. Then he painted the body devil red. When someone smashed the carving and kicked it along the cobblestone street, the scraped knees exposed the white undercoat. I saw this as a contrast to children's red scraped knees. This gave birth to my poem's two favorite lines.

The pictures are mine.

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