by R.R. Tavárez | Aug 28, 2022 | Poetry
Hace calor Abuelita says We find her in the kitchen of the apartment Wearing nothing but a bra and a half slip. ¡Mami! Tia gasps I laugh, and laugh, and laugh Six-years-old and sixty Adjusting to this new place. The white people keep telling us It’s not the heat It’s...
by R.R. Tavárez | Oct 21, 2021 | Poetry
Abuela sweeps her hair back Ties it up Soy fea. I am ugly. She says. Such a common refrain. I watch her hands Weathered, but unwrinkled Her fingers chorus A more ancient verse Of waters pulled By an invisible moon Onto a sand formally known as Unknown Formally known...
