Mis Tías

Tengo tías de todas partes. Tengo tías que hacen milagros. Tengo tías que son mariposas. Tengo tías que venden mermeladas. Tengo tías que besan a mi carita. Tengo tías sin las palabras. Tengo tías que entierran semillas. Tengo tías que hacen sus propias muebles. Tengo tías que bailan conmigo. Tengo tías que hablan mezcladas. Tengo … More Mis Tías

Open, I am…

One of my socks is stretched out. And I ran out of my favorite deodorant. And the DVD of Argo I bought refuses to be recognized by the player. And the top sheet hasn’t been in any way attached to my bed in at least a week. I’m living a stretched-out-sock life, somewhere in between … More Open, I am…

some kind of magic

Thankful for tongues that don’t know English, chewed-on Crayola markers, cookie crumbs, sounds that mean nothing, Estefani’s laugh, missing teeth, sticky little hands, manitos, tea and good mugs, being called Tia, sweet and melancholy rainy mornings, the scarf that makes me feel like Aunt Beth, warm blankets and tv voices, having another day tomorrow to … More some kind of magic


It’s been two hours, and it still hasn’t rained. There’s so much that I want to say, that I need to say, really, but, it still hasn’t rained. And so, I’m waiting. I’m waiting for a downpour. A drenching. A release.

A Remembrance

Can I just fly to the mountains where the rain falls softer and the sun shines sweeter than in this room where seasons shift and fall and bring me back to null waiting for the day when wings grow and the void will no longer be my peril but another joy