I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
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
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
sepia memories of my great grandmother captured her mysterious smile
months before she met her untimely demise in a fire
was she smiling about her newborn child
or because that was coquettish nature
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
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
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
pumpkin patches, fairy costumes, scary movies-
leaves falling, trees dying-
october is here
another damn season of my life is here
another transformation I’m not ready for
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
when it’s good, I float on clouds
but lately, I feel trapped
like a bird in a cage
doing everything I can to survive
enslaved in some script I follow
in order to not be alone
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
I wrote this poem in October of 2022.
in the land of exhaustion, I silently pray for a burst of energy
to get me through the last 4 hours of the work day
to make me fake perky and be productive at my job
I wrote this poem in 2019 when I got into a fight with a friend because he was cruel to one of my friends. After this fight, we didn’t talk for 2 years but we ended up reconnecting in the summer of this year.
“Control myself”, he said as I called out his misogyny
his fragile ego couldn’t handle hard truths thrown at him
he thinks that he has a license to offend
because of the organ between his legs and the pale color of his skin-
He thinks that I’m wrong for not sitting still and silent
He thinks that I have no right to stand up for myself
“Control myself”, he said to and “fuck off” I replied to him
you won’t ever be able to control a woman like me
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
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
escribí este poema en septiembre del 2022.
los susurros de mi alma me dicen
que por fin me acepto como soy
que por fin me entiendo completamente
que por fin siento un agradecimiento
por una vida llena de dos lenguajes
dos culturas y dos hogares
soy la hija de nacimiento de Perú
y la hija adoptiva de América
soy la sangre de los Incas
con la mentalidad de Washington
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
the sun sets and the sky turns pink
and you take my hand and tell me
I’m all you’ve ever wanted
And I’m overwhelmed by your grand gesture
of love and have the urge to walk away
but instead I stay
thinking maybe this time it will different
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
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
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
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
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
