We grab the bags, half filled,
again. Let the shame we own
shade us as we run.
In the night, women whisper
about the diameter of the bruises
and extent of their captivity.
Do you remember, can you imagine.
The phone rings, the boy sounds rescue calls
into my ears. His hands throwing this terrible
back at me. How do you comb trauma
into his hair? How do you refuse it?
We pack bags furiously, with flawless precision.
Essentials, everything else can be acquired.
She jokes that we resemble gitanos. We
don’t laugh, respectfully understand,
we don’t have a home; bags spill
out our foundation, Nina singing
‘Either Way I Lose,’ in my head, as I throw
away my chance to pretend regular.
Silly refrain in the background––why
can’t we clank tea cups, laugh softly?
Our silhouettes
are cut from metal
and we don’t drink tea.
Image Credits: Flickr: Sjoerd Lammers
Leticia Hernández-Linares
Leticia Hernández-Linares is a poet, interdisciplinary artist, and educator, and the author of Mucha Muchacha, Too Much Girl (Tía Chucha Press, 2015). Widely published, her work appears in newspapers, literary journals, and anthologies, some of which include: U.S. Latino Literature Today, Street Art San Francisco, Pilgrimage, Huizache, and This Bridge We Call Home. She has performed her poemsongs throughout the country and in El Salvador. Active in Central American Art and Literature, she participated in the 2014 Encuentro Poético: Salvadoran-American Poets at the Smithsonian. She is the founder of an artist collaborative, Amate: Women Painting Stories, and a CantoMundo alumna and organizing committee member. A three-time San Francisco Arts Commission Individual Artist grantee, she lives, works, and writes in the Mission District, San Francisco—20 years strong. Visit her: joinleticia.com
