Tag: longing
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Arguing with the Dead
Arguing With the DeadBegin by calling her by name,not the one etched on the granite monument in front of you,not the one printed on the birth certificate—that temporary name another motherwas forced to dream upin the haze of post-labor fade,in the ecstasy of seeing youfor the first time—something that grew for nine monthsinside this other,and…
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Brief Encounter on Aisle Five
Brief Encounter on Aisle FiveIt is this way:She sees him first—aisle five, cereals— where the honeyed light fall softly on him— and her. The way he cradles Cheerioson the cart’s edge—firm in his handsso if they slip, they fallinto the safety of the cart,into the touch of his little girl-—lets her knowhe once belonged to…
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Prayers Between Us
I do my laundryin the rhythm of my mother’s prayers—each crease a rosary,folding divineto divine.I count the timesher perils met mine—with hands that trembledat my fever,hands burntin a kitchenunseen,List the register of her and mine shared frailties:the way we flinched at sudden joy, unsure it would stay,All the letters written to my heart—the notes she…
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Supermoon
My wife was still doing her hair and makeup before our meal at Cocina Abierta—a seven-course tasting circled in red weeks ago—a promise we weren’t sure we’d keep.So my brother and I filled the hour wandering the narrow streets of the city rooted in my mother’s heart and past, San Juan—where I’ve paused—for now—before our…
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There Are Places Where Children Dwell
There are places children dwell— no letters to Santa, no cookies or milk on Christmas Eve— just feathers on windowsills, pretending they’re posts from mom.There are places where children dwell who hum the first sung lullaby from their mother’s doting throat instead of prayers that ask for sleep and their souls to keep.Places where children…
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Inside the Places that Light Can Not Reach
Inside the Places that Light Can Not ReachTrenches carve silence in the ocean’s deepest foldswhere pressure crushes and light dies before arrival—beneath ice pressed tight by a thousand years,where silence sleeps in frost older than stars—limestone cathedrals rising from the littoral hush,where even echoes have forgotten the sun—Deep in the brain’s hippocampal fold, where memory…
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The Widening Sky
**The Widening Sky** I feel myself shrinking, walking the night beach under the ever-widening sky. The sand clings to my feet, then is washed away in the tide’s haste to kiss the shore, only to recoil when it tastes the grit of life— the ancient attraction-repulsion born the moment the first creature rose from the…
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My Jesus Hour in a Taco Bell
I feel at home at Taco Bell, as the cuisine echoes the worst of my mom’s cooking: cheese that tastes like beans, beans that taste like rice, rice that tastes like flour.It’s where I go when I am missing someone, usually near their Jesus’ hour, between the last sip of a lunch hour Pepsi and…
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Abundant Mangoes
This is the first time I’ve been in this mango grove, hearing the iguaca sing, since my parents left this islandIt is mid-July and I am wearing my dad’s old hat palm pava square and jaunty on my balding crownquietly stealing this fleshy passion fruit, its skin warm on my palm, eager to be sucked,…
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The Long Drive Home (A Draft: Seeking your opinion)
When the car burst onto the empty highway, the bridge stretched long over the river,and the faint glow of streetlightsbathed the dashboard in a soft, cold light,not bright, but a subtle washprofoundly changing my thoughts. Suddenly I wanted to feel clarity,to dive deep into my center,marriage and divorce throwaway wordsfor the deep sensation of home,knowing…