Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: modesty

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

me in September of 2022 before boarding a plane to Lima

my mother tells me to dress modestly
no loud lipstick, short skirts,tight or revealing clothing
I represent my family and currency in my country
is prestige and social status-
so I need to dress like the hija del ingeniero-
it’s the remnants my parents hold on to from their former lives
so I’ll put on my mask of señora de la sociedad
pretend I care about trivial things
mask my true identity of being a socialist, a feminist, and a crazy bitch
It’s the least I can do for the people who sacrificed themselves
for a better life for me

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Prodigal Daughter

I wrote this poem in September of 2022.

this prodigal daughter got accidental bangs in Lima

the prodigal daughter returns to a homeland that she barely remembers
it’s been 32 years since she stepped foot on Peruvian soil
and this feeling is unworldly-indescribable-unimaginable
she was a child when she left
never quite understanding the whys or hows of her family’s immigration journey
in her adopted homeland, she suffered through hardships and failures
but the ancestors always protected her
from drowning in the immense waves of chaos and disasters, she ended up being tossed in
and she’ll go to their graves and pay reverence to them for shielding her from danger
the prodigal daughter returns, and she feels nostalgia rushing into her body and mind
she is finally where she belongs

Posted on by pattytacuri

Ceviche

3 types of Ceviche🇵🇪😍

What’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten?



Ceviche, ceviche, ceviche
you are a national treasure to me
your origin is mysterious
your taste is juicy and tasty
ceviche, ceviche, ceviche,
you are an explosion of ecstacy
because you feel like you’re
making love to my mouth
with every bite I melt inside



4/6/2022

Posted on by pattytacuri · 2 Comments

poetry: fujimori’s legacy

I wrote this poem in April of 2024.

me at age 9

thousands of indigenous children never made, never born
Fujimori’s presumptuous superiority and cruel policies
caused this inhumanity, this crime against the most marginalized
the poorest
robbing thousands of women of their right to procreate
a shameful part of Peru’s history
thousands of indigenous children mourned
who were never planted, never had a chance to bloom
perhaps their existence was a threat to those in power
full of corruption, now we’re never know

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poesía: ira y furia

escribí este poema en Marzo de 2024.

yo y mi tacos contra El mundo

la ira y furia de mis antepasados femeninas viven en mi
ellas me visitan en sueños y me mandan mensajes
que cuentan sus historias, sus verdades aunque duelan,
aunque algunas me llamaran sádica y dramática
ellas me inquietan y me dicen
es tiempo de gritar todas las injusticias
y trastornos vividow
que nuestras muertes no han sido en vano
y aunque lloro y trato de ignorar la llamada de la sangre
es inevitable-fui escogida-
para sus venganzas, para sus historias de redención

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: beatriz valladares

I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

Beatriz’ husband

wonder how it happened-
the transaction between beatriz’ papi and luis
did beatriz have any say in her future betrothal
did she have dreams as a little girl
about her future husband
did she even love Luis or just tolerate him
because it’s what was expected of her
how did it happen
did she wish for a different life for her daughters
one where they loved their husbands
one where they were treated like humans
and not treated like cattle

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poesía: PTSD

escribí este poema en febrero del 2024.

oxapampa

dejan su patria por una mejor vida
por el bienestar de su familia
nunca pensando en las consecuencias
de esta decisión
nunca pensando del sufrimiento
que este paso puede causar
y al empezar su nueva vida en américa
se enfrentar con la dura y cruel realidad
de ser inmigrante
nunca siendo aceptados,
siempre ser tratados como algo menos
de ser humanos
siempre teniendo que trabajas el doble, el triple
para poder sobrevivir
nunca dándose el lujo de parar
para procesar sus sentimientos
o lo que están viviendo hasta años después
cuando todo el trauma que vivieron
viene como un huracán en su mente,
en su cuerpo que se adueña de ellos
y no los quiere soltar

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

Poetry: Sex and the Incas

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

me with my sexy Incan Diosa vibe

erotic stories from my ancestors are still seen in the caves
and uncovered in archaeological digs
people intertwined in every imaginable position-
showing their sexual pleasure shamelessly-
it makes the American and Colonizer catholic girl in me blush and say,
damn, the Incas were some kinky people