Poem: Los Trastes

Sometimes, I miss washing your dishes, the intoxicating scent of Victoria’s Secret perfumes in my nostrils, the sound of salsa rhythms swimming through a floor covered in purple Mistolin. I miss your travelling nature, your inappropriate humor, your mouth, pursing with bright colored lipstick, your face adorned with make up, …

Poem: Ropes, Bottle Caps and a Finca

I wonder, at times, if my father had children with my mother to spare the pain of living with dark skin on his children. I long for the sun-kissed melanin of his ashen knuckles. For the curls that his hair blessed my sister with. I wonder what was the end …

Poem: Azucar

We – hijas de Boriken – missing self – searching for the I, pero broken. –   I think back to my childhood, the callous hands of the woman who birthed me, her hands on her face, her back slouched, The tears that travelled down her cheek. These days, I …