Three Poems

Self-Portrait as Twice-Exorcised Child Should’ve known the demon wouldn’t leave so easy. Perched on the dresser it wears shadow, won’t let me see it directly, just claws and fangs, pale tongue like a serpent reaching for the floor. It tries to confuse me. “They said of Agatho that for three years he kept a stone…

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Mouthfeel

Part I: Hors D’oeuvres A month ago, my papi and I moved to the panhandle, a place that lacks the constant stream of Spanish that Miami is known for. Here, everyone has blond or light brown hair and light eyes. Here, people say, “y’all,” and one out of five gives you odd looks when you…

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The Pearl Growers

I was twenty-two the first time it happened. My father slapped me so hard that I bit my cheek open and a thin trickle of blood spilled over my tongue while he stood there, jaw locked, holding the pearl in his hand. He looked at it, not me, his eyes only for the smear of light…

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