La Sangre es Sangre

Tiene sus ojos de viento. 
Baila aún en una foto vieja, aún no tanto.
Buscando su recuerdo,
                  lo encuentro,
                        lo guardo.

I am here
— le digo a su oído de lejos tan cercano.

I am there!

Me escucha. Sonríe. Guiña un ojo.

Is not a goodbye
— el murmura cantando un merengue de los de él.

Sé que no miente.

Mujer con Voz ©2016


Photo by Fernelis Lajara

The blue. sky. was opening.
El cielo se abría así mismo de golpe.
Some were praying. with the silence.
El silencio se comió su pensamientos
Others were numbed.
Anestesiadas las lenguas rojas.
All that was the left was an empty corridor 
in the hospital with invisible people running away. I reached out for them. My arms weren’t long enough. I returned to the cold chair. I wished it wasn’t this terrifying to wait for a miracle. I opened the window of the room so the navy blue sky can calm the pain. The anesthesia was done doing its job. Nobody says what they needed to say, they cried with fury instead. Another patient entered, they needed the bed. 

On Days like this One

Photo by Djilas Gomez @djilasgomez

“On days like this one, mom, with her moño alto, used to cook for us/ Her church was the kitchen, her hands were the prayers/ The entire house smelled like a dream you could reach with your own hands/ A song de domingo was playing in the radio, before, way before the light was out for five hours/ The stove could talk to us, burning, burning things without taking away their magic/ Light entered her green cocina with a smile/ The colorful clothes were bathing themselves in the sol/ When the worship en la cocina was done, she was calling us to come prepare the table and confused all our names/ We did not care/ All of us sat on the wooden table/ The hot food was waiting patiently grandly offering itself to be eaten/ It was 12 on the dot/ The sun decided to sit with us/ The aroma of family increased as we eat/ The clothes drying in the patio never screamed for help/ On days like this one, I found out you could have a religion without a name/Mami, with her generous manos and her tall moño taught me that.”

Mujer con Voz ©2016

Symmetry of el Cuerpo

Photo by Joelle Santos @azuquita.prieta
“Get inside the hips of a plane
Travel millions light far from el caldero 
de arroz
Learn a new form to love
inside-out of your translated words
But I tell you, honey
light travels back
and that body is full of symmetry
expect it to reflect 
the life you








 La vida se me hizo vida de golpe

Busco un nido en mi ropa

Multiplicó mis idiomas visibles

Se rió de mí al abrazar my years

los que I wouldn’t have again.