Latinx AF: Self

Mexican-Salvadoran-American, sí

Splitting in half hyphenated into three

Unwanted remnants of a treaty to weak to foresee

The bits and portions of Guadalupe that betrayed piece by piece

Forgotten tongues cut off and buried who I’m supposed to be

Six feet under I reached for the lengua that was left to bleed

I held my breath, a rush of symbols flooded my mouth that wanted to eat

Like the deprived Nopal in the desert asking for water to drink

She stands unaffected at attempts to uproot her

Wearing her cactus fruit crown as her feet dug into the dirt

Xicanx labeled traiter, her spiny needles protected her foundation that threatened to stir

But her resilient ass stayed motionless, they stayed as they were

Her Mazapan skin skipped subtly so as to not crumble

Tamarindo eyes drank the image, and went back for refills

She pictured a maise goddess

Amazed by her brown waves honest

A needle and thread, her patch work could never be flawless

But as promised

She worked a stitch until pinpricks were enough to feel rawness

Her own work left her astonished

Forgotten pieces that she spit shined and polished

Praising herself, her word amongst prophets

In the mirror she whispers, “Chingona”

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