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 | Apr 13, 2022 | Poetry
On this day in Black history I put my armor on Wondering how fast I’ll need to run How will I be considered if I wear anything but a suit? A clergy collar? A tie. How will I look? The camera catching me Running toward Breonna Taylor Way Catching flames Or running...
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...
