Por qué no lloras enfrente de mi

The sky dusked
The clouds fell
into the foothills
of sleeping volcanoes

Her wailing    echos
glide through
the sharpened edges
of izote leaves
searching
         for souls to sway

Toes pointed toward the past
a silky fog dances on her like a dress
her mourns are heard
by the unfaithful

Waiting near riverbanks
                    She wades-calling
                    for her lost children

the ones she cradled
the ones she drowned

La Siguanaba appears to those men
                   searching for innocence

Entranced they follow
into the traceless

                   she reveals her true
                   form and leaves them
                   crazed claws their
                   hearts because hers
                   was shattered
by the unmentioned husband
           assumed      innocent

                                            she must be the guilty one

Pushed to the brink
                    to find relief
                              at the bottom
                                      of a river

                                                    Who wouldn’t cross a river for their children?

Now those men who
remind her of that monster monster

hear her cries

Siguanaba,

                                             Do you still get flashbacks?
                                             Does your monster still haunt you at family reunions?

Siguanaba,

                                             How come they only love you when you’re naked?

Siguanaba,

                                             I think you are always beautiful. Don’t tell my mom.


----------------------------------------------- // ---------------------------------------------------------

Chismosas

The women of my family
gather in ritual
exchanges of stories around
the dinner table
brewing cafecito
            just as they watched
                         their tias and mothers
                                 serve their baggage
                                             and pour sugar
                                                           on bitterness
A long line of chismosas
kept our history      alive
                                        their secrets
                                        their wisdom      inherited
                                        warnings of disobedience
                                                 tales of caution
                                        to let us know
                                       you can never be too protected

Exchanges of no le creo      twirling in the air
landing with
*inhale* eeee *exhale* que pecado

Inheritance of stories and we
their tellers           an endless stream
of echoes passing        through us
imagining better lives
            smoking up the air
               to distract

           remembering the women      who
           didn’t make it                      across

Our bellies ache
from laughter
from malnutrition
           a miscarriage somewhere
           in a lancha
Our voices swell                 in orchestra
           words
                   fall
                                short

eyes unlock

                 silenced sentiments

our bodies cannot take any more

a unified sigh
             gracias a dios

Que rápido pasa el tiempo
            we all nod
    y uno ni lo siente

                 because it does not pass
                                             we become moments
                 leaves in a looping river

                                            echos in the distance
                                            continuing
                                            the stream


----------------------------------------------- // ---------------------------------------------------------

A Quiet Revolution

As an act of defiance I still
say Buenas Tardes
to neighbors
call the kitchen staff
primos
still smile at strangers

As an act of defiance
I whisper to the wind
Ask trees for their protection
Ask Madre Tierra before
I take recuerditos
Ask tios for
their blessings
but do not bow
my head

As an act of defiance
I laugh as loud
as I must love every inch
they called ugly
count each new

constellation on my body        my ancestors' footprints

As an act of defiance I still
carry ruda
in my wallet
still pray to
Padre sol y Mama luna
los cuatro vientos
y la Madre Tierra

As an act of defiance
I give a dollar
when I have it
stack my dishes
after eating
in any restaurant
and I say thank you

As an act of defiance
I do not mark a check
on the boxes
that ask me
to forget
this
indigenous

heritage
they tried
to kill
off