the letters matter but what about the space in between.
never have i seen
something so lively
it allows me to dance
and feel free
anything, busting, i must sing
out this song that I feel vibrating
withing my heart
I can hear my fingers start to reverberate words i have never used before
all along hovering over this keyboard
control, alt, delete.
think
what are the exact words that I want to say to thee?
OH! i can feel it screamin
if my heart had hands it be reachin out to the world
while staying even with it’s beat
where the fuck is that mic?!
I was out in the street tonight . . .
I want everyone to see that we are all F A M I L Y
smile (=
these words I leave behind.
People have come, and some have gone
Many leaving memories like
Old grandma hands, tortillas on the comal
My hands learning not to burn
Then scooping up hot
Creamy white jocoque in my youth.
Memories of a grandfather
Patient and present
The varicose veins
He said were from snake bites
Then winked my shock away.
I remember his swift walk
His hands ready to get dirty
Raising sunflowers as big as your head
Beautiful enough to find their way
Into a Better Homes and Gardens magazine.
My abuelito, how I treasure the nurturing
The loving of a protective soul.
You saw me, we lived together
With tios and tias in a little Mexico town
Alone now, everyone leaving.
Long ago this was the place
I swung back and forth on a gate
Me not yet three, yet full of knowing
My aunt warning me I could get in trouble
But my little voice responding sure
“Mucho me quieren!”
(“Not likely – I’m so loved ”).
Those were the days and at times
I didn’t know what to make
Of some strange happenings
Like lying on a hard kitchen table
Enema water coursing through me
I scream-crying, my body out of control
My abuelitos set on curing my empacho
That tricky stomach glitch needing this.
And then after many years
Now not in Mexico, now here
With my other family, my real mom,
My dad, and my brothers and sisters.
How my abuelitos tried to transfer me back
to this other family, pleading be careful, slow.
But no, from one day to the next
it was warm here, then cold there
comfort and softness, then harsh reality.
So confusing, those years adjusting
To the loss of my elder guardians,
My angels in disguise.
Til finally one day my abuelita passed away
I was five, skipping past death’s tears.
And later, much later, me in my teens
Heard the news that my abuelito had died
His heart gave out, tired of pumping love.
I remember him still.
One of my many treasures.