For we are quite unmusical; how is it that we understand Josephine’s singing or, since Josephine denies that, at least think we can understand it.

Trespassing

When we’re small, bold black lines don’t exist.
The sky is purple.
flowers are brown,
trees are yellow,
And the sun is pink.

We're born with the ability to know what color nature truly is
But a polka dotted tree prevails over reason.
We feel life in nature even after barely experiencing it.

We trespass reason’s property for the sake of what moves us.
Let me be that kid again







Cherry blossoms in December

Three
A row of them greets the Theater’s facade every Christmas.
I see them from the taxi on my way home from the airport.
I’m back.
They wave at me.
The December breeze caresses their flowers, while passersby pick them up.


Spring happens in December where I’m from.
Cherry blossom themed lattes
Constant breeze
Sunsets that just feel right
Tamales and eggnog everywhere
Sweet bread from my grandpa, the baker
December blossoms with the passing of the days.

I come home every American Spring, and leave every Costa Rican Spring.
The three trees stay the same, I go with the wind.
May this eternal spring always be a part of me.


Silver

is the color of their spirit,
a spirit comforted by the sound of rain on a gloomy day.

A soul so bright it couldn’t be contained.

They hear their mom’s voice through the gift they drink. Feels like loving.
Feels like flying.
Madonna sends her love from afar. Keeping it honest. Making it real.
A gift charged with good times. A drink Elsa Patón would feel privileged to share.

Silver
Is the color of their nails
As they type their next search on Wikipedia.
Maybe 7 searches
Or a rabbit hole that becomes into 77

Silver is what sticks with you.
What makes the difference.
Not gold
Gold is too perfect
Silver is vulnerable
Silver is honest
Silver is real.

Madre

The rustling of the trees greets me every morning, a row of mountains in the back.
This room used to be a giant balcony and you used to spend a lot of time here with Cabita.
Purple sweater, flowered pants.
The mountain row is now a row of buildings.
Ya no te puedes asolear en el balcón.
Wee woo, the siren is heard on Amsterdam Avenue.
What could have happened in a city of thousands?
Peep peep peep, the microwave goes off and you taste the soup dumplings. HOT!
My mom would never let me eat this if I were home.
It doesn’t really matter, you’re away, enjoy! I imagine she would surrender.
There’s so much to your mother’s cooking.
Only when you’re away do you realize how good soup would be.
I hate soup.
But I miss my mom’s soup.

The thing around your neck

A collar.
A necklace.
A circumference that encloses you. Who you were. Who You will be.
Who you won’t.
There are some who carry a metal one.
Maybe silver.
Rarely gold.
Always rusty on the inside.

There’s one in the corner of the street
Keep walking.
A light.
You have to stop, but you don't.
go. Go. Go! You hear a weightlifter in your nose fighting.
Your glasses feel heavy.
What's in the corner?

You speed up.
Your mind goes to what you had for breakfast this morning.
Eggs. Avocado. Bacon.
Is this really the way you’re calming yourself down?
You’re almost there.
Your consciousness knows it.

Your body feels the cracks of the old sidewalk
You look for your keys
You feel a presence behind you
You look through the reflection of the dirty door.
But it’s just you.
You’ve been carrying the weight of your day around your neck.


 

Copyright © 2024 Gimena Sánchez Rivera