Themes: labor, inherited trauma, survival, desire, intimacy, bilingual

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i am ruin

i wake in a king-sized bed,

four pillows deep enough

to sink under cold to the touch

i like it that way
like evening rum slow and burning

left alone long enough,
this is a bed where i could be

wrecked by past present future lovers

i could jump for joy
i could make it messy

call it ruin remember life hurts.sometimes unbearably so

a bed should always mark my disappearance

quiet after the day breaks you open.
quiet like a promise, always offered

there is no better feeling than coming back

if i am enough,
i won’t break

no questions

this bed—
my altar.

the place i let myself be held

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mi mansión

i drew a house and named it mansion,
and flowers bloomed in mami’s garden;
yet still it lacked the sun’s delighted smile,
for day must rule or night will fill it black.
with windowpanes and glass and curtains neat,
and regal doors awaiting our entrance,
a marble stairway made for us to climb,
the scarlet carpet kept, the greenery refined.
 
and mami in the garden—mami there,
no noble honeybees only el sweet picaflor,
and queer butterflies quiver in the air;
i chased my brothers, won, and ended in a fight.

papi was long gone.
the house kept saying: sun.