There's something in my closet. Its raspy monster breath makes my curtains flutter at night. I tell my mom, but she says it's just the sound of the wind whispering secrets to the moon.
There's ... [+]
There's ... [+]
When my dad was closer to death than to us, he’d call out for his mom. His sickness made him weary.
One slow breath in and a single syllable out: amá
Gentle on the tongue, bitter in the lungs.
I never asked him why he cried out for her but I think it was because we want, so greedily, to somehow squeeze into a fetal position and remain in our mother’s heart for as long we can.
Carved deep, sewn slowly.
Nestled deep in her chest, near her neck, closer to the clavicle.
One slow breath in and a single syllable out: amá
Gentle on the tongue, bitter in the lungs.
I never asked him why he cried out for her but I think it was because we want, so greedily, to somehow squeeze into a fetal position and remain in our mother’s heart for as long we can.
Carved deep, sewn slowly.
Nestled deep in her chest, near her neck, closer to the clavicle.
6