O alegría, preciosa alegría. There was a window. Rosado. Outside were brown and red bricks. The lady with dark hair sang.
Oh mi oh mi, mi vida es, mi vida es. We ate ice cream. Vanilla con fresas. Red and pink and white, and purple skies. Azul! Azul! The children shouted. No, morado! I would yell.
Tengo tiempo, todo el tiempo en el mundo. The world was young then. I had dark brown eyes. But his eyes were blue and green like sea water crashing on the shore. The ocean sings. But not like our brown lady.
Hermosa, they whispered. Hermosa, tan hermosa. I mixed the flour and sugar, but it always burnt. The clothes danced in the wind. Where? Outside. ¿Dónde? He shook his head. His laugh sounded like Christmas.
Quiero amor, quiero amor. We stopped to listen. The trees bent, and the flowers hushed. The clothes became still. We ran to the window. There. There! His eyes swam in the sky and captured the stars, while his laugh danced.
Quiero un hombre, quiero un hombre. She twirled until the orange and pink blended into a mango. The statues made me sad, but we watched. God listened. The window turned white and foggy under my nose and mouth. I held my breath. He held his. Mi madre, I whispered. Someday, he whispered back.
Published in The Iris Review, Spring 2018
Winner of Lora A. Printz Poetry Prize
Photo by sydney Rae