Dance

I’ve always envied those brave souls
who find the courage to dance
with anybody, to any song, or any beat. 

But I am not like them.

There are certain songs I only dance to 
and not well enough, really.
I look like a marionette 
flailing my arms in the air
And sidestepping and hopping 
To the tune of Eraserheads.

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To Mother

The poet dedicates this to her own mother, Lea Belen Santillan. The first poem she has ever written for her.

Under the tangerine sky
           I frantically wore
            my yellow tsinelas
            from an afternoon 
            of bato lata 
            and Slipper X

I dusted myself off
and waved farewell
to my playmates
as their mothers
wiped sweat off their faces
with Good Morning towels

I wonder
why Mother never 
           fetched me
           from the plaza

           made my assignments

           or let me cheat
           on quizzbees 

What does it mean to Mother?

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