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...
by R.R. Tavárez | Apr 2, 2013 | Journal Entry
“It was early Tuesday morning and I was alone, working on my laptop at a coffee shop. Only a few days into January, the new year was still fresh. Decidedly, I had no resolutions in place, other than trying to keep up with the curve. I was moments away from...
