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LEGACY
LEGACY This mouth has birthed earths of dirt, blood, roots, boots, leaves, limbs, grass, grit and wit I have created and destroyed worlds with these lips Between the base of my hips, I eclipse. Spiraling from my solar plexus Galaxies have been born in my lower extremities Visual symphonies lyrically woven Laced with every color of the spectrum Spun with momentum Words spoken into existence from...
Expelled
Expelled In my excitement, I acted precipitously, told my close friends and family, I was a mother to be…… My skin was glowing, my hair bounced freely with new life. The nauseousness had finally gone away, I was floating on cloud 9 for 12 weeks and 5 days! Then changes starting taking place, something wasn’t quite right, my body was giving me a sign. I started bleeding that night In fear for my...
LA TEQATA
LA TEQATA I was 10, At Abuela’s house, Thanksgiving dinner; They sat me across from Carmen, noticeably getting thinner and thinner. I remember the vagueness in her eyes, that disoriented stare. Struggling with the weight of her head, just before it hit her chest. Arroz con leche all over her face, That shit was everywhere. In gatherings and parties, She would walk around the house frantic, moving...
Five Days After My Grandmother’s Passing
Five Days After My Grandmother’s Passing Lucia , my daughter calls the fine china doll, held against her chest. My abuela’s name is a roar from her ashes filming the top of the Rio Nigua in Puerto Rico. The call wakes me suddenly, like the crack of coconut shell upon pavement. How did my grandmother’s name find its way to my girl? Could it have leapt through the child’s canary-painted walls,...
Apartment 3C
Apartment 3C My aunt in the Bronx grows an island in Apartment 3C, learned it from her mother. Titi Judy sits in her rocker within a labyrinth of leafy palm, amapolas pushing their way through a wall of cigar smoke. Vine extends itself, tangles in her graying curls. A hummingbird flits and I sit cross-legged on her mahogany floor, waiting for her to begin after a few deep drags. She recounts her...
City Serenade for Love’s First Kiss
City Serenade for Love’s First Kiss After his bubble lip bottom eats my top lip, I smile— a French smile, the Eiffel Tower looming behind his Caesar cut. I blink and the film tears. I’m still on the rotting back porch in corduroy overalls flicking his tongue as my extra-chromosomed neighbor pulls at his dog’s chain, his pupils dilated. I ditch my thick cut glasses for chin smeared saliva, behind...
Fourteen Women Poets on Being Nuyorican
Sandra Maria Esteves In my early years I was a silent child who gravitated towards the visual arts. In college I realized that words could be a tool for creative self-expression and began the process of exploring writing as another way of creating art. Then one day I discovered my voice as a poet on a journey that healed the silent child and empowered my consciousness. I read my first poem to an...
On Being Nuyorican
"One of the things my parents taught me, and I'll always be grateful for the gift, is to not ever let anybody else define me." Wilma Mankiller—Principal Chief of the Cherokee Nation, 1985-1995. What is identity? Is it contained merely in the language we speak or in what and how we write, in the food we eat? Is it skin color, gender or geography? Is it a label imposed by academicians, by...
¡Ay Virgen, yo no sé quién soy!
a Tato Laviera. Me acaba de llamar la poeta ecologista Nancy Mercado en esta mañana de Oya, o la Virgen de la Candelaria, para preguntarme si nací en Nueva York. Le digo que no. Entonces quiere saber a qué edad llegué a la ciudad y le respondo inocente que aterricé recién cumplidos los dieciocho. Con esta información me lanza la pregunta de los 64 mil dólares: ¿te consideras una poeta nuyorican...
In My Perfect Puerto Rico
In My Perfect Puerto Rico My gray mother would be Combing her mother’s white hair On their turquoise painted porch Under mango trees Among hummingbirds My black grandfather In the next rocking chair Happily looking on My four-foot-eight cousin Sonia Would be out back In a wooden shack Washing clothes Or running in the garden Tending to her dogs She wouldn’t walk with a limp Wouldn’t be sick She’d...

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