IV

 

Mexican Heaven

tamales. tacos. tostadas. tortas.

pozole. sopes. huaraches. menudo.

horchata. jamaica. limonada. agua.

 

You Get Fat When You’re in Love

you got a little extra love

on your ankles, love hanging

over your belt line. love makes it hard

to fit inside your pants sometimes.

love got you buying bigger sizes,

need deeper pockets for all this love.

your buttons can’t hold all the love

rippling up the middle of your ribcage—

love turns those shirts into accordions.

you make music with this love,

carry yourself like a song.

when you get skinny,

everyone rushes to compliment you.

they want to know what your secret is.

tell me, they say, what’s your secret?

you look great.

call it the Broke Heart Diet.

love left you.

then you left you.

now all you have

is this disappearing body.

 

Interview

after Safia Elhillo

where is your home?

in my parents’ new house

there is a room for everyone

except me.

where is your home?

i went to México & no one recognized me.

where is your home?

i went to México & everyone was my cousin.

the radio played José José straight from

my mom’s mixtapes. where you from, my cousins ask,

& i point at the radio.

where is your home?

it took me three years to hang art

in my Bronx apartment. soon after,

i started getting tattoos. there, i said,

i’m all moved in now.

where is your home?

riding down Lake Shore Drive

listening to GCI.

all the songs i was given

slap through the car

like the lake slaps the shore.

where is your home?

it took me three days to take down my art

& move out of the Bronx. is leaving

always easier than arriving?

where is your home?

the house i grew up in was foreclosed.

there is a small note taped to the door.

i still have the key, but the key opens nothing.

 

My Family Never Finished Migrating We Just Stopped

we invented cactus. to survive the winters

we created steel. at my dad’s mill

i saw a man dressed like a Martian

walk straight into fire. the flames

licked his skin, but like a pet, it never bit him.

in the desert, they find our baseball caps,

our empty water bottles, but never our bodies.

even the best ICE agents can’t track us

through the storms, but i have a theory.

some of our cousins don’t care about LA or Chicago;

they build a sanctuary underneath the sand,

under the skin we shed, so we can wear

the desert like a cobija, under the bones

of our loved ones, bones worn thin

as thorns to terrorize blue agents,

bones worn thin as guitar strings,

so when the wind blows

we can follow the music home.

 

If Anything Is Missing, Then It’s Nothing Big Enough to Remember

you are born where you are born, south side, Chicago & you are born

where your parents were born, Cañadas de Obregon, México

& when you are born, your parents kiss in Chicago, & in Cañadas

your grandparents kiss. you are here & here. wrapped in blankets here,

a name shared over coffee here, you are born both places, celebration cigars

here & here, only it’s hard for one body to contain two countries,

the countries go to war & it’s hard to remember you are loved by both

sides or any sides, mostly you belong to the river that divides your countries,

the way a bottle drifts to shore & no one knows how far it’s traveled

or where it came from, which is a lie you tell yourself, that you were not born,

you walked out of Lake Michigan, something to explain your half-everything,

all-nothing nature, it’s a lie, & you know it’s a lie because your

grandparents visit & the first time you meet them, they know

your name & have pictures of you, & when they return to México

your cheeks are still wet from kisses, you know your picture

is walking around the same town your parents grew up in,

you are here & here. & it is beautiful sometimes like on birthdays

when the whole yard is full of dancing & the kitchen is hot

with tortillas y tacos, here you are safe & whole & there is no

Rio Grande splitting you, mostly you scissor yourself along the lines,

you choose a side, you cut & cut & one day you wake up

& the voice in your head speaks English, you stop coming around here,

the old photos fade down here, your name mispronounced

here on your own tongue, your grandparents graying like

your memory of them & you graduate from college, & your

classmates say you must be so happy to be so American now,

& your other classmates say you must be so happy

to leave behind Calumet City & you don’t know what you left

because you had been trying to leave so much, it’s hard to tell

what you lost, what you kept, & what the price really was.

 

Sleep Apnea

i wake up with last night/ spilling into my morning/ wake up with owls/ flicking their lashes/ at me/ wake up/ but don’t/ wake up/ dragging/ all my dreams/ by the ear/ like misbehaving children/ my unruly hunch/ i’m trying to tell you/ the night is never done with me/ by 1 pm the moon tries/ to escape my mouth/ stars glitter my tongue/ coffee is how i keep daylight burning/ a lemon wedge/ of night sky/ under each eye/ colleagues compliment/ the grind/ the show no tell/ i tug the evening/ behind me/ like a black velvet cape/ thick enough to swim in/ to sleep under/ velvet threatens/ to swaddle me/ swallow me/ when i sleep/ i don’t sleep/ the doctor says obstructed airway/ & i hear/ what i already knew/ i got a big mouth/ i got bigger dreams/ i have a medical condition/ the doctor tells me/ sleep apnea/ & i say yes/ i am the son of immigrants/ but what does that/ have to do with sleep

 

Mexican Heaven

Jesus has a tattoo of La Virgen De Guadalupe

covering his back. turns out he’s your cousin

Jesús from the block. turns out he gets reincarnated

every day & no one on earth cares all that much.

 

Note: Vaporub

vaporub is pronounced vah-po-ROO. like loud or CHEW. the label for vaporub says it’s for cough suppression, but in my house, vaporub is for headaches, sore muscles, nightmares, & everything else. put some vaporub on my dad’s diabetic toes & watch the sugar evaporate. miss a day of church? put some vaporub on your forehead & watch forgiveness flush your cheeks. put some vaporub on our bank account and watch the bill collectors stop calling. when i forget a word in Spanish? take a teaspoon of vaporub under the tongue.

 

Summer Love

like, when you are making coffee,you look up & see

a rifle at your head.just a split second.just enough

to get your heart rate up. you don’t tell anyone

about these visions.too much History Channel as a kid.

well, things with the girl go smooth except every time she leaves, you’re

convinced she will never contact you again that she will

disappear intoFacebook. you see camouflage helmets

in pizza shops.heat-seeking missiles in the bathroom

reconnaissance planes in your refrigerator.an endless supply

of gunsat your chest.what does it mean.your girl

kisses you onthe neck.you read Lucille Clifton in bed.

do i need to say it? you are smittenway past a little bit.

you get a new job. more money. more power. you see soldiers. more guns.

what does it mean. you don’t have a problem. you’re fine.

the girl dumps youat the train station. she kisses

you on the mouth,then boards the trainto get the hell away.

after she leaves,you hopethe next train will unload

an entire militia.the visions stop.

just like that.you are healed.

or some bullshit.