I remember nights of
playing
Watching the cold of the
window as I
Blur the scene from
outside with my warm breath
People sledding and
laughing in the yard
A father lifts his son up
in the air
He catches a snowflake
with his wet tongue
A group in the distance
sings a sweet song
A baby is cooing while
mom holds tight
The grandmas and grandpas
scurry inside
Lights draped around the
houses light the sky
Tree tops turned white
and the birds call this home
Shinning so bright in the
cool night lite sky
Little stars twinkle and
the moon sleeps on
My mother wraps arms
around me gently
Pulling my grasp away
from the window
I watch as the people
fade from my sight
Strange faces I see only
this time of year
Always greeting me with an
awkward hug
Topped with a red lipstick
kiss on my cheek
Joining these people my
Dad calls family
Together by the tree we
all fake smile
Another family photo till
next year
Everyone gathers at the
big table
Mouths opened wide as
they stare with their eyes
After Aunt Barb’s famous
ham and turkey
I am always confused as
to why we
Rip apart such magnificent
wrapping
Underneath is what I
asked from Santa
My heart skips a beat as
I run outside
Dropping my toy as I open
my mouth
-----------------------------------------------
BY JACOB SAENZ
I remember nights of
playing
Lotería w/Mom & Big Manny
as a way to learn the
Spanish they spoke
to each other but not
to their kids
who caught on to
certain words
like cállate, cerveza, chicharrón;
little nuggets I ate
up
like the pinto beans
we used
instead of the blue
chips
Mom kept in her Bingo
bag
she carried every
Friday night
when her & Tia
Shirley
went to the Moose
Lodge,
her hair & coat
reeking
w/the smoke of all who
lost.
I remember El
Borracho,
the man always holding
a bottle
& about to fall
over yet never does
like Big Manny
stumbling home
late at night after a
payday,
breath & belly
full of beer,
who one time took a
piss
in our bedroom.
I remember La
Garza,
not for the heron it
is
but cousin Tony &
his kids,
nights of sleepovers
& pizza,
PlayStation on a
40-inch TV,
the night he & Lil
Jesse sneaked
bumps of coke in the
bathroom
& I rubbed numb my
teenage teeth.
I remember El
Musico,
not the chubby man
clutching his guitarra
but my brother Dave
loading crates
of records & a
dual turntable case
like a coffin into the
back of a van,
the same set I hit my
back on at ten
when I fell out of the
top bunk bed.
But I prefer to
remember La Sirena
back when her breasts
were free
of the seashells she
now holds
to cover them in water
so blue
cold, her scales so
red,
her name clung to the
tongue
like dulce de
leche.
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