I miss your smile. The way

   you would laugh. 
The way your eyes would

   crinkle under the

   moonlight. 
You used to come by,

   drop me flowers. 

Besame Hombre  
que esperas  
ya no nos ven los ojos de

   los padres  
no nos toca las palabras

   de los machistas 

​

My legs take me to a

   paradise where I don’t

   feel numb.
In this utopian world I do

   not feel alone; the

   feeling eludes me.
Can you see . . .

I don’t need to speak.
You hear me anyway.
You’re guarded,
one eye on me —
but when you least

   expect . . .
 

He blinks at me, his eyes

   the deepest carmine

   touch of brown I've ever

   seen.   
It happens effortlessly, I

   cannot control it, yet I

   forget myself

After my tía Olga settled

   in, the days passed us

   by once again.
The once knowing looks in

   my grandmother’s eyes

   were now cloudy and

   dazed,

Words in Spanish hold

   different values than in

   English
Like el cuerpo is more

   than the body
El cuerpo es más que the

   body

. . .what´s with that river, does it wash belonging off? Pienso en cuando ellos me decían que sueno más gringa que de donde soy . . .

Se me perdieron mis

   aretes mágicos que me

   compró mi esposo en

   Italia,  

En un sueño los recuperé

Heavenly Mary 

that I've known forever, 

I wish I still cared. 

​

I wish I still cared, for  

           the saintly stories

              and buildings, all

Within the helix of my ear,

   I wear a piece Spanish

   gold.  

It’s a star with a shining

   white stone at its core,

   adorned

Most days I stare at

   nothing. A blank wall,

   an empty bedroom, a

   bare bathroom. I see

the light switch on and off

   like a game of tag, yet

On those red benches 

I meet the beauty that

   waits for me.  

After a long walk to your

   side,  

I taste your sweet lips 

Your soft white
Fluff covering your body
Has matted
And dirtied
Over the years
You have been by my

   side.

    So what’s the plan? 
To keep burying all your

      sorrows 
All your problems 
Until they are so deep in

      the bottle . . . 

I didn’t mean to stay this

   late
but the silence back

   home felt louder than

   the city

​

the coffee is bitter ...

cuando era niña                sus brazos— alambré de

   espino

se enredaban en mi

   pelaje de nubes secas

                                                          y me decía, 

de tu cara esta tatuada

   en mis parpados

como esas dactilares

   que decoran

las cucharas de oro que

   me enseñaste.

​

Insect, 
crawling on the wall. Grip 
so tight, so sensual, it makes me quiver. 
Diseased, / I digress. 

I’ve always hated libraries.

It hurts to see all these

   books,

all these legacies people spent their lives writing,

Lights hum, music plays,

   and laughter swells.

Coins clatter, sticky soda

   coats the floor.

Neon glows flash bright

   like casting spells,

hatred drifts like smoke

   around my ribs, 

thorns pressing in like

   quiet constellations,

bleeding me into the

   shape of memory.

if only your heart could . . .

i miss you sometimes

in the hush between

   seasons,

in the slow passing of

   days

i miss your long hair,

the songs . . .

i crave softness

yet flinch from it

a heart that longs

but fears its own

   openness

all i want . . .

My mind… goes into FATAL

   MODE,

The Party Clown turns
   Psychopath…

Unbrushed teeth after a

   seventeen-hour trip 

Damn Good Tacos filled

   with mango sauce 

And hands smelling of

   corn tortilla . . . 

Lying on its back, 

   Legs reaching towards     the bright blue sky, 

         Much like a

         knocked-over chair: 

               So stiff 

               So plain 

Attached are my reasons

   for quitting the nursing

   home; It is all too much,

   Mum. 

A lady slants to the left  
A lady bruised up to her

   hair 

Eyes closed, when my

   nose hits that dust

   smell,

I know I’m in El Paso.

Summer lingered . . .

The hazy lights

   illuminated paths

Where shadows lingered,

   prowling homes whose

   bright,

Yet humble lights prevail

I clock in and go to work,
Making greetings to

   coworkers.
I type at my desk

   mindlessly,
Not even seeing what’s

   on the screen.

I want a Love. that wakes up with me. breathless. as he memorizes my eyes. the sun. catches the golden specs that usually hide. tracing my lips. 

“Árbol” y “tres” no suenan

   igual 

in español. Two words in

   different 

worlds. Pero en inglés

   suenan 

the same. 

I’m too ruby too perfect

too full, too plump, it

   oozes from my pores

and makes a puddle at

   my two feet

my legs too short

your hands too slow . . .

The drop of sun, a bite of

   a crisp apple the peel

slipped between my teeth.

And I thought of you,

   sitting on that bench

   the grass

Your skin shade is far

   lighter than mine.
Similar to the weight on

   your shoulders
Or what you carry on the
Plate that has been . . .