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10.27.2020

stoplights

 

It's years too late
           before we admit 
           to seeing
               cracked concretes, jilted detours-- bumps so unbearable

     lost
               having ignored the signs, lights and pedestrians

               and we wonder
               why it seems that

                                     after all these thousand hours spent maneuvering
                                        impossible alleys
                                        collisions
                                        a lover not knowing

                 after all these hours believing
                 we'll get there, just in time

                            we seem to never arrive. 






8.25.2020

I ran this scenario over a hundred in my head.

The period in all these tangled sentences, where starts and ends

are everywhere and nowhere.

Though the string of hurtful words we’ve thrown and kept

were enough to hang ourselves and the rest,

No number of threats

and rehearsals

 

can prepare for the broken words

last spoken.

2.23.2016



My mother in law raised seven men.
She toiled in the kitchen, warmed
potatoes in huge portions
dashed with salt and self-doubt.

My mother married two men.
The first one fled at day-
he gave her a daughter who ran away
with a man no one has met.

My grandmother disliked men. Especially her own—
A man who was in love with fifty women,
his shaft failed at the end. On his deathbed,
he asked for the hand of the first woman he failed.

My mother in law is waiting
for the leaves to turn green, for the oven to beep,
for a son to sleep. My mother takes a call
from a daughter she never sees.
For long, she embraced a thought

perhaps
all loves shall hurt. Both women does so in silence,

as my grandmother did
when she felt on her palm
a man´s last heartbeat.

5.22.2015


doors open with a hand of a ghost, a ghost
long gone and walked

count the sun with your hand, 
and the only words you know,
and the only people you say hello
 
the rumblings in the gut is louder
than the street below. 


4.23.2014

How do you know when feelings have ended
I have been here before, but I don’t remember how it was
Is it the same game of tag, pulling in the heart
Back then, I wanted to fall in love, create a storm in my blood,
I want a fire that shoots beyond the sky. I was mad. Until now, I am mad.
So I told him I’m on my way—away from him.
And now, I am here again in the act of shredding the strings of my gut—
what is to lose, what is to stay.
I have been lining those strands that weaved me in, untangled them carefully
so I can see but I am blind. I have tied myself fatally when I’m no magician
to pay for the shards of glass that I broke on my way to you.
And now I walk barefoot on them

—away from you.