Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: la cigarra

I wrote this poem in July of 2025.

took a picture of a dying cicada without its consent
didn’t even know what it was until I googled its picture
I just thought something so vibrant and colorful dying was beautiful
just thought this is the closest I’ll come to nature in this unforgiving july heat
and then I discovered cicadas signify transformation, rebirth, and resilience
so it made sense to me why I noticed it
something so small, almost insignificant everyone else would walk by it
but I, about to have another transformation I never asked for
was attracted to it, noticed it, observed it closely,
perhaps, it was my own spirit reflecting my current ego death
as I’m about to level up to the next version of m

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: this song era

I wrote this poem in July of 2025.

People watching days are over, this Song era is now my reality
no more longing or yearning over what could have been
or what I once upon a time wanted it to be
instead I focus on the genuine and loving connection in front of me
the one who’s not afraid of the creative beast who resides in me
and makes me feel heard and seen
even if sometimes that seems cringe or weird
Especially after I admitted I had watched him while he slept
this time he allows me to him without flinching
when I tell him he’s the new muse of my poetry
and he’s brave enough to share his feelings without shame
and reminds me of all the things he likes about me
the one who feels like my sanctuary to lay my love and poetry in

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poetry: stop

I wrote this poem in July of 2022.

don’t judge others for the life you haven’t lived-
not everyone has had the same privileges or self awareness as you
some of us hardly had time to process one trauma
before facing the next one
and unhealthy coping mechanisms were placed
it’s how a lot of us learned to live our lives
with our emotional gloves and armor always ready

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poetry: Iho Place

I wrote this poem in July of 2022.

Iho Place was my teenage dream that ended up in a nightmare
that’s where my Papi bought our first computer
and how I wound up in an AOL chatroom for singles
it would seal a fate I had not intended
flirting with and meeting strange men would lead me
to some dire consequences
I got into my first toxic relationship who ghosted me
after he went to rehab for his drug problem
and I dissociated after the pain of abandonment
I was desperate for love and validation and I met a man
the man who I would make a baby with
Iho Place saw the first 9 months of my son
and the start of my relationship with depression
looking back-maybe it was also the start of my BPD
I remember walking with headphones and losing time
it was hard to be at home with my parent’s silence and disap

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: kam highway

I wrote this poem in July of 2022.

Kam Highway would see many changes in our family
three teenagers in one house, our parents were saints
at first we lived in abject poverty
trying to find change in the secondhand couch
for ramen or popcorn chicken or anything
to put food in our tummies
this apartment saw the awkwardness of my adolescence
saw my brother almost fall into the wrong crowd
saw my sister fall in and out of love
until she finally landed her first husband next door
and we had a pizzeria next door and also the interesting neighbors
like the marine next door who beat his unfaithful wife
or Tipper the stripper who was in a toxic relationship with the landlord’s son
their song was Kiss and Say Goodbye by the Manhattans
and the fun thanksgivings with all of the neighbors

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poetry: Melrose Place

I wrote this poem in July of 2025.

my childhood was not easy and at times full of chaos
good to inspire my creativity, one where I never needed
much imagination
since real life served up a lot of telenovela energy
from toxic family dynamics to immigrant trauma
to the ghetto melrose place in hawaii
my childhood felt like a constant barrage of episodes
where the adults couldn’t keep it together

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poetry: statistics

I wrote this poem in July of 2022.

I’m paid less than everyone according to the statistics
and it’s simply because of my ethnicity and gender
at times I get mad about this
but then I’m like, it is what it is
and won’t change in the near future
instead I continue to work hard for my and my kids betterment
and try my best to live out my immigrant dream

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: fudgesicle

I wrote this poem in July of 2022.

we hear the ice cream truck and we beg mami for money
we tell her to hurry before the ice cream truck realizes he’s in the hood
she gives us all of the change in her purse
and all of us run to the ice cream truck
my favorite is a fudgesicle
it taste like an almost normal childhood

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: close to perfect

I wrote this poem in July of 2022.

he’s loved me from the start even if I’ve been high maintenance
his love has never wavered even when I came home pregnant at 17
he never took away his encouragement
even though I married a man almost as old as him
he is my papi-
he’s not perfect in any shape,way or form
but his love is almost close to perfect

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poetry: cochran street

I wrote this poem in July of 2022.

Cochran street was supposed to be our bright new start in a new country
naive immigrants we all were thinking america would accept us
thinking our family would have our back
instead my parents were exploited and me and my siblings
were treated like indentured servants-
we never talk about how the toxic it all was

or the trauma it brought or how we tried to fit in a country
where we were squares in a peg holes
and how dad fell further into his addiction and depression
and we don’t talk about any of this because dirty laundry
is never aired out in public

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poetry: evergreen

I wrote this poem in July of 2025.

your love is pure and evergreen and I’m surprised by it
never had anything like it and part of me wants to sabotage it
start a stupid fight where you end up as another catastrophe
I add to my tome of my lust and love
but something tells me, it’s my anxiety doing a number on me
and I’m deathly afraid of how close we are getting
and for now I pause, I breathe, I tell myself this time
it’s different this time, i’m not some hidden secret kept in your pocket
this time, both of us have done the work and gone to therapy
this time, we both have eyes open and have shown most of our cards
this time, it could work out

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: Cuzco, Peru

I wrote this poem in July of 2022.

in Cuzco, Peru around 1985

I was supposed to have been born in Cuzco
but drama kept me away until I was two
cusco saw me walk for the first time
cusco saw me blossom with the attention and affection
of my family and everyone else
I learned to be happy with the new freedom my legs gave me
but one day that changed when I was four
when the baby sitter hurt me -hurt me for being spoiled
hurt me for having la tez clara
and she gave me a phobia of water
and my resilience created an imaginary friend Calinchia
to help me face and process what happened to me
and eventually blocked my trauma