Reviewed by Erica Goss “Can I break / my heart from clapping shut in this wonder / and wounder of a world.” These lines
where Robles and Limoncillos grew stunted by the winds from heaven, and parrots streaked the skies with feathers. There was a place, where el
We tried to comfort each other, but instead felt the mud-brown scars pouring all over our clay-statue bodies We were once young bugs slithering
Walking to school, two girls at the grade crossing, patient as passenger cars, doors open. The pavement under their feet did not rumble.