Mother Tongue from my chapbook Interstellar Bruja (2016)
The words inside my dreams are gibberish, but sometimes I speak in Spanish.
I don’t know the language of my ancestors.
I don’t know the intricate movements of their mouths, throats, tongues.
I will always have an accent when I speak Spanish.
Halfway between one identity and halfway between another.
Always having to prove yourself.
Establishing thick skin and knowing your own core.
Making sure it remains guarded because this social structure tries as hard as it can to erase me.
It tells me where I come from doesn’t mean a fucking thing because the colonizing continues.
My body. My skin. My dark hair. My dark eyes.