BIO
Karlina Veras is a British Latinx writer living in London. Her work focuses on female empowerment and the underlays of everyday life. She takes inspiration from her homeland, the Dominican Republic. Her debut flash-fiction collection Yun-Yun has been translated into English and Italian and has been published in various magazines and anthologies, I.e. Otras Vidas Posibles and Archipiélago Inverosímil. She writes short stories, poetry, screenplays, and creative nonfiction, in English and Spanish. Her project 'Five Minutes of Magic' on YouTube shows how to bring creativity and magic into our lives. Her website is www.karlinaveras.com. Her social media handle is @karlinaveras.
Silent Dreams
Silent dreams above my head
Silent dreams waiting to be awakened
Silent dreams in heels, red lipstick, a red bow.
Silent dreams not really silent
Silent dreams screaming inside.
Silent dreams faking to be quiet.
Silent dreams waiting to dance.
Girl with freckles, crazy hair in a ponytail-way too tight.
The perfect ponytail to be
Silent.
The uber expression of my soul.
It, her, you—what do you really dream of?
Are you like me?
Make it a silent dream, not really silent.
I scream mambo violento,
cucumber sandwiches
and an iced latte with almond milk.
I scream Yo Soy Loca con mi Tiguere
tu suave, in honour al Cata
With the same Uy, uy, uy, a lo Julián
Oro Duro.
No sourdough though.
As much as I love it.
No more.
I’m so terribly chubby.
So full of blubber. And I don’t want to be.
The same way I don’t want to be silent.
Scared.
Waiting to what everyone else’s going to say
to then nod my head, or not.
Anyway
Qué vaina, qué chavienda. Qué dirán mis panas cuando me vean.
What would they say…
My so-called buddies, my mates. If they see me now, with my light dimmed.
My freckles, non-existent. Put away.
Tainted heart, dreaming out loud.
Yay! Finally dreaming, finally allowed to what though?
Would they love me still?
Would they care for me?
If they knew…
If they really knew that the person they say hello to and join for pints in the pub is
nothing but
A shell.
A masquerade.
A shield I carry in the battlefield that always is life for me.
As I’m always fighting
Always angry.
And when the silent dreams shake
Se menean, se menean, como una culebra.
And the crystal glass breaks
As the dim lights turn off for a moment
To then shine as bright as ever.