Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: black cat

I wrote this poem in October of 2025.

Black cat in the middle of the road in mid october
it’s almost halloween and almost a year since I lost contact with you

Black cat in the middle of the road in mid october
Laufey’s too little, too late plays on repeat
A sense of guilt hits me wondering what we could have been

Black cat in the middle of the road in mid october
my boyfriend told me I’m wife material
I’ve resigned myself to the fact there never will be an us

Black cat in the middle of the road in mid october
Time and luck never was on our side
No matter how hard both of us tried

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: 1821/1921

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

hope in my eyes
me in Autumn of 2021

in 1821, my homeland gained independence from the Spanish crown
who subjugated my people to their whims of supremacy and colonizing ways
200 years later,they celebrated their independence
while, I, their daughter gained my independence from society’s chains
wrapped up in patriarchal and sexist good intentions

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: autumn 2025

I wrote this poem in October of 2025.

me with my Annie doll from infancy

as the leaves turn crisp, I find myself reminiscent of the many women I’ve been
excited for the version of me that’s to come
understanding I was always right
to continue on and trust the process
understanding this heroine’s journey of mine
was indeed worth it

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: digging

I wrote this poem in October of 2025.

me with my parents

I dig and dig from the skeletal remains of my family’s lore to make art out of it
to pay tribute to my ancestors and my family hates me for it
because no one is sanctified or worshipped in my stories
everyone is shown as who they’ve been
flawed individuals with mistakes made
with self induced tragedies, with victims
and generational curses left and passed down to us

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: my caramel

I wrote this poem in October of 2025.

the happiest week of my life happened a year ago
when I broke my two year celibacy vow and landed
in my situationship’s bed and felt stupidly hopeful
we could have a new beginning where a toxic love story
could be redeemed
where I saw my favorite singer performed all the songs
that had been the soundtrack to my healing
that week everything seemed possible and that love
could rise from the ashes of past crashed
and setting into something full of promise
and potential for fairytale ending

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: simpler times

I wrote this poem in October of 2025.

me in the 90s in simpler time

compasses, faded maps, stereos, VCRS, corded phones
all relics of another era
when we weren’t one click away from seeking validation
from our peers or the news trying to break us with each headline
simpler times when we could ignore
what was happening around us

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: my song

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

my heart sings a bilingual song in imperfect castellano
and a fluent English
entre carcajadas y calor de mi comunidad de Athens
between my few childhood memories of Lima
entre las risas de mis hijos
between my parents many sacrifices
entre Wham y Slyvia Plath
between Bad Bunny and Gustavo Becquer
llevo América en mi corazón
I carry Peru in my veins
canto esta cancion con amor y dolor
I sing this song with love and pain

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: bicutural

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

I breathe in America I exhale out Peru
I’m distant, cold, and reserved at times
I’m warm, nurturing and dramatic at times
I was born in Peru, land of the Incas
land of the conquistadores
and have the blood of both run through my veins
along with their determination and fortitude
I was raised for most of my life in America
and lost part of my language and culture
and gained an individualistic American mindset
I breathe in America, I exhale out Peru
never had a choice in this bicultural existence

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: pesadilla

I wrote this poem in September of 2025.

once again the united states of white supremacy throws another wrench at my community
making it more of a crime to exist as we are
trying to erase our culture, trying to shame us for our heritage
trying to force us into assimilation by any means possible
trying to target us for simply not fitting into their idea of what America
should look and sound like
and I stand up in defiance and say, a mi me vale madre pendejos
estoy que desde 1986, sembrando raíces en California, Hawaii y Georgia
y me quedaré aquí como su peor pesadilla
una mujer latina, criada y educada en este país
que no se dejara llevar por la marginación y racismo constante
de esta administración
y que luchará hasta el último respiro por quedarse aquí

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: finding love

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

little inner girl healed

I found love and it wasn’t at a bar or an app
I found it on the soil I was born on,
I found it in the embrace of my homeland
I found it in welcome from everyone
I met and reconnected with
I found it in the accent I never had
I found love as the prodigal daughter of my country
I hadn’t seen in 32 years

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: seasons change

I wrote this poem in September of 2025.

as summer wanes, and the days gets shorter and cool air welcomes me in the morning
I feel a magnitude of gratitude and grief for this summer
gratitude for all of the time spent with friends, for the poetry written, for all the growth that happened
and grief for the vacation not taken, for the depression that paused me at various points,
for the things not accomplished
and as the leaves turn, I wonder about I could have if only I hadn’t struggled with mental illness

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: not promised tomorrow

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

just me and my entire universe

we’re not promised tomorrow, so we must make the best of our todays-
creating community with our friends, reconnecting with our roots
loving our children with a loud fervor
we’re not promised tomorrow, so we must appreciate
everything we have
the legs that take us on walks and runs
the creativity that flows from our minds
the laughter shared with loved ones