Poems

frail tumbleweed attached to my soul
lead me not beyond the unprovoked dirt roads in Kansas, fortifying Georgia mountain ranges, pulsating Mexican communities within the United States and majestic pockets of the world—
bring me home to the life I plead
You
the person that once taught me self-worth
humility and respect
over time you have shown me
each thread that makes up
your being
You
the type of person that taught me
how a little water in the form of reflection
can rinse out the imperfections of our day
how diving deep can provide rejuvenating clarity
and how to avoid drowning in the ocean that rises when I do not listen to
You
father, you were not made to wash,
your faults and your shortcomings
should have come out by now
they soak this fabric that clothes
what is most important to me
weighing it down beyond my reach
preventing me from wringing out what
is left of
you
written from the perspective of my mother, Concepcion
I went to check in on him the news of his fate in my mind slowly starting to go dim
I fear my heart will do no more but ache and carry his desire to live
brother,
the decision was made for us, not by us
the sad truth of those painfully poor
Mother knew it first the silence that evening outside his window tormented her
she mourned his death before he had left upon not hearing the neighboring crickets,
their departure—uncoerced
Ausencia
We’ll forever lament the moment the crickets took with them my brother’s last breath
a lock of his hair was left to grasp along with the departure of crickets and what that painfully meant
There was a fire inside your body that met the fire that blanketed the dining area You walked away before the skin on your toes melted away and evaporated into the air forcing people to inhale the dust and choke I pass the men’s bathroom and feel an itch down my throat Left right left right I keep walking but I notice my chest gets tight and I am no longer able to breathe My throat becomes a vacuum cleaner neglected to be emptied out Unable to feel the slight movement of air up against the accumulation of your anxiety
You couldn’t wait for me outside the bathroom
But why am I the one choking?
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Francisco Goya’s painting, Saturn Devouring His Son

(Ekphrastic Poem)

unrecognizable he was,
is.
time has erased
the comfort his features once brought,
or maybe he is exhausted,
hopeless,
stripped like an orphan child.
only this is no child,
just sorrow translated
into pain in the image of man.
his sniffling nose paralyzed her into sitting still
like a meek squirrel shaken from silently
terrifying sounds during the night.
not giving her much time to prepare
he picked her up with his reassuring fatherly words,
only to crush her by the tight grasp of what was said.
Porque no me tienes miedo?
Why do you not fear me?
those words rumbled out of his mouth
into the space between them
empty,
while adorned with her provisional replies
dark,
while dimly lit with the memory of her
once familiar father.
she went to answer, but he wept
a vermillion river
down her body.
their relationship
like her,
trickled down his leg,
between and under his toes–
forever trapped
beneath the heaviness of his own,
confinement.

Vestido con sabor a coco

I wish

I could wash away these stains on our family’s wardrobe

so that when I pick something to wear I could just see clothes

without second guessing what it is to be a daughter

…

Sometimes when I buy a new dress,

I find myself taking out mami’s olla

Pour in the milk bring it to a boil soak the numerous months we went without talking have the fabric thicken our relationship y que quede mi vestido color atole blanco, like the kind mami used to make during those family days en el invierno

…

Un dia mi mami me dijo que

el amor a veces no es atole, sino arroz,

que la vida is not always ducle how we want it to be

oftentimes disappointing

y realmente desabrida