Landscapes that Remind Me of My Children / Pasajes que me Recuerdan a Mis Hijos
By Lourdes GalvánUtica is a pretty and quiet country
When I was at the bus station
my son would say to me, 'mom, I am hungry'
and a man who was sweeping came up to me
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Hija
By Ruth Irupé SanabriaI am the daughter of doves
That disappeared into dust
Hear my pulse whisper:
Femicide/Fimicidio ~ The Murdered and Disappeared Women of Ciudad Juarez, Mexico
By Demetrice Anntía WorleyOn this eve of the dead, I cry out loud,
“por favor Virgen de Guadalupe, don’t
forsake me,” before I open the door,
before I see la policía flat
Commitment Otra Vez
By Carmen CalatayudSome generations ago,
you were a Zapatista
inside your great-grandmother's
barreras
By María Luisa ArroyoMami called us away from the roach trap line
where novice factory workers, fresh from the island,
and I, fresh from Germany, poked
Nueva fábula de albañil / The New Fable of the Bricklayer
By Nancy MorejónEntre arena y gravilla,
mezcla y paleta,
va transcurriendo su vida