CRISTINA AND ELENA
Rhode Island, 1962
They call us the Peter Pan children
because we arrived alone, our parents
left behind
in Cuba.
The revolution on our island
is too complicated for us to understand.
We’re only nine years old—twin sisters
with living parents who sent us to the US
as if we were orphans, because they thought
we would be safe here.
We’ve had to live in one foster home
after another, sometimes together, often
separate.
Miami was a little bit easier,
but Denver was just lonely snow,
and here all we can think of all winter
is when will Mami and Papi
finally
arrive?
What if they never
get permission
to leave
the isolated
island
at all?