Note:
As a second-generation Mexican-American, it is very important to me to reflect my relationship with language in my writing. Growing up, I struggled to speak Spanish, so in recent years I’ve been pushing myself to reclaim the language by incorporating it more into my life, especially in my poetry. While the Spanish words and phrases can mostly be written in English without breaking the poems’ forms or grammar, the blend of these two languages acts as a reflection of the way I often speak; that is, speaking in “Spanglish.” Some of my favorite phrases in these poems are actually those written in Spanish, simply because of how they create new rhythms that wouldn’t be as prominent in a full English translation. Having two languages at my disposal also grants me a larger vocabulary, which then allows me to experiment in the creation of new words both in English, such as “songhands,” and in Spanish, such as “lunapiel” [moonskin].

 

The Raking I rake the withering  of my family as if to prevent the bloodtree’s fall –  silent abuse swept behind smiling photos: a papá’s heavy hand, mamá’s complacency – but my ancestors,  no matter how dark their histories, still  hunger for sugared dough and wax.

instead, I – coyote  navigating the border between honor and accountability – water  the November flame with prayer and salt: perdónanos nuestra oscuridad como nosotros perdonamos las suyas,  ahora y en cada hora de su muerte. I magic  this barrier to prevent abuelo’s pain, altar his

grief into peace: pienso que mi padre  era un buen hombre.  but every sunset the spell breaks – bisabuelo’s spirit stepping through cempazuchitl portal,  hand out as if to be kissed upon arrival, and abuelo cowering, as if his father sought  instead to strike.

 

 

tongue of abuelo’s grief #1

Tito: Venía mi papá, teníamos miedo.¹

 

 

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¹ [maybe God didn’t mold my father’s hands to hold beloved softly. hands that gunshot skin at
mamá’s accusatory aim. hands calloused by los campos, dragging my child body to work. hands
selling candy to our neighbors, coming home devoid of pesos and tenderness. hands that soften
only for the sorcery of pan dulce. ay, to be sugar and dough raised by father’s attentive gaze until
the hour of your consumption. hands, I realize now, that will never again equate my face for a
target.]

Instructions for Abuelo-Being

1.  Mientras estás creciendo, do not flinch when your father reaches for you 
         a.    Swallow each fist raw and whole so your children never have to
2.  Cuando tu padre te lleve al campo, aprende
         a.    During each border-crossing, memorize the streets – un día tu tambien seras
               Americano
                   i.    Do not think about the coyote who almost killed you
         b.    During each hour, remember even crops need to be cradled 
3.  En cada fiesta, baila con las chicas y pregúntales sus nombres
         a.    When you find the one named after a prayer, recuerda su cara
4.  Durante tu vida, entierre tu nombre 
         a.    Nunca serás un santo para tus padres 
         b.    Tus hijos te llamarȧn Papȧ – that tender mark you didn’t give to yours
         c.    Your eldest grandchild will butcher your abuelo-right y te dara un nombre nuevo –
               hold it in memory of her 

 

 

lunapiel

i. blue
cuando los manos de papá cierran como cielopuerta: corrupted as haollowed book
claiming our infernal: remember his judgment also awaits him: when we die they’ll
call us moonloved: cada matiz de azul en nuestros cuerpos fríos: let me be
threnodied with your songhands

ii. red
cuando mamá fantasma la noche con sus palabras: needle tucked between teeth:
remember that we are not the names our creators give us: we are what historians
deem us: happy::gay::abnormal::queer::vile: como rojo representa ira y sangre: it’s
all objective, ves

iii. light
cuando la vida no puede árnicar su río de pena: long as the algorithm that
synastries us apart: remember the stars are all dead: they know nothing of our
bodies: bring yours to the ocean you almost named your grave: i’ll await you with
our song under moonlight: hola extraño: i’ll hold you like i did back then: all
red-named and blue-skinned