He will answer...

For the victims of the Connecticut school shooting. All of my heart and prayers. 

Dear Santa

A common conversation starter

Around December

As carols are sung

And little angels scribe dreams

On lined paper

To someone they’ll never admit

They put right next to God

As they address heartfelt wishes

But we live in world

That intercepts Santa

By mixing up Christmas with the dates of Manson murders

Because the sicknesses

Have only become mental

Killing the world

 the black plague of imaginations

We are plagued

With those who believe

That our children deserve to see

Deathbeds before bunk beds

We are plagued

With fathers who believe that bullets

Are the only way to get to a child’s heart

We are plagued

With unanswered Santa letters

Or were they letters to God?

Because the purity of heart and mind

The innocence is being eaten alive

By insanity

Instilled in adult psyche

We have laid to rest Roosevelts and Kennedys

Voices that could’ve colored black and white

We have laid to rest common ground

Because with each lost dimple and dance on tiptoes

We have laid to rest life

Mothers who will never dress daughters

Daughters who will never steal lipstick from mothers

Fathers who will never play pigskin in the park

And sons who will throw to themselves

As more puzzle pieces disappear

Till the big picture is full of holes

And adults don’t write Christmas letters

Because all they can think to do is argue

Over the root of the situation

The left

And the right

Is it really worth the fight?

Because when it comes down to it

The only thing we’ve gained

Is loss

Children who will never floss

The two front teeth they wanted

As they watch a red Christmas

Instead of the white they’ve dreamed

Because Red is the only color that can comprehend to be seen

As their families decorate trees an empty green

Kicking themselves for kisses

They didn’t give on Friday morning

And never knowing Christmas spirit again

Because it will only be an

Anniversary

A Red Christmas

Cruel reality

And those little angels

Will meet the man they’ve been writing letters to

Long before they were meant to

And he will answer.

Lovelines

an original song

I wanna walk on your tightrope
without bringing your down
I wanna jump all the stories
without seeing the ground
and I could be your shadow
you'd never know I'm there
but I want you to want me
to be more than your air
'Cause I wanna be in every pocket, every dime store locket
of your mind
'cause I wanna be
the girl who keeps you taking your time
'cause I wanna be
yours and mine
not just a state of mind
I wanna color inside your lovelines
I can see it in you
your tragic tendencies
baby, you don't know me
I've sailed ever sea
though your heart may be freezing
chattering teeth
I'll be right beside you
with heart handled heat
'Cause I wanna be in every pocket, every dime store locket
of your mind
I wanna be
the girl who keeps you taking your time
I wanna be
yours and mine
not just a state of mind
I wanna color inside your lovelines
and I've never known love like candied apples or carnivals in fall
I've never known love like holding hands
or anything at all
I've only known love like
empty promises
and unanswered calls
hurting through it all
But you already are in every pocket, every dime store locket of my mind
you are the boy
who keeps me taking my time
you are every single state of mind
you are the color inside my lovelines
you are the color inside my lovelines*

For real this time.

I am lingering on a kiss

In an attempt to seem less teenage

Because in moments like this

My old soul and my young heart

Get tangled

Tripping each other

Coinciding power lines and lightning strikes

And I have lost service

Because with every daydream

I am rendered disconnected

Because my eyes paint themselves glassy

Unopened windows

Where anyone who might peer in

Can see a frenzy of feeling

Played in concertos

Of Chicago street choruses and

the faint swing of the zipper on your leather jacket

as it accompanies each move you make

because your hands began to paint me

extremeties covered in compliments I swore I’d never hear

as you hand crafted each description of me

and spelled it out letter by letter

My heart had its first birthday

As it began to grow with each new hope

That we could entwine fingers

like stitches

keeping everything together

and I was over joyed in that brief second

when we laughed because

you finally got to bite my bottom lip

like you’d dreamed about over morning coffee

and in that moment I realized

that your eyes were glazed like mine

I looked into windows

That were tinted the same shade

And I had to contain the fireworks

To make them a small burst

Because my soul and my heart had argued

Until the moment you kissed me

And reckless abandon

Had a nice ring to it

Your arms

Had space just for me

And your eyes

Could only take polaroids of my posture

Stars spoke sonnets in my ear

and your fingers drew constellations between shoulder blades

I lost and found myself 

in one brief existence of forever

as time proved its brevity

and I found myself writing love poetry

for real this time

because in a situation like this

I could over-metaphor a kiss

or I could simply state this

I found home in your smile

and peace when we were chest to chest

you held me like a rag doll you'd kept since you were a child

precious

for the first time in my life

 And I never wanted to leave**

What's In a Name?

My name is Gabriela Esperanza Yolanda Guajardo

Syllables proudly scrawled on scholarship applications

As my parents claimed they did it on purpose

Because they knew that someday I’d need to be Hispanic and poor

So that colleges would knock down my door

Claiming to help the quote-unquote “underprivileged youth”

Expecting to interview a girl with drawn on eyebrows and a bedazzled tooth

The best place to use the word uncouth

Because yes

Latina blood runs through my veins thick like fresh tomato chunked salsa

I am spicy like the jalapenos that stains nose hairs

Because potency is something I’ll never be bad at

I can remember Christmas tamales and Linda Ronstadt records

As I’d pretend I was full enough to cry to the moon the way she did

I was a Selena kid, what can I say?

I’d do the washing machine like my hips were made for the spin

And sing “Ay ay ay Como me duele”

Repeating lines like rosary prayers I never learned

Busty-caca-delamente! It’s a bra!

I suck at buying pants

Because much like Jennifer Lopez in Selena

This ass isn’t fake

People often mistake me

For a Kardashian from behind

My curves leave them blind

Because they can’t find an answer

Because my paperwork claims that I

Am a Spanish Queen of the desert

Wearing red and waving fans

Dancing flamenco like I was born in solea

Being raised on beans and tortillas

And born with two tongues

All the while

I am a redheaded white girl

I love Taylor Swift and chai tea

I read Ginsberg and write poetry

I wear converse shoes

And have barely built up enough a tolerance for green chile

I can’t dance

And beans are still a very musical fruit to me

I am latina but it’s not all I can be

Because I believe that my culture

Is me

A culture of my own

GiGi

I didn’t change my name because I was ashamed

Because I wear Angel of Hope like a creed

Tattooed on my heart

I changed my name because in those four letters

I am art

I am the best picture in the year 1958

I am whoever I create

Gabriela as my soul

GiGi as my fate

I am disappointed

In my lack of culture

As teachers call roll and expect me to answer in Spanish

Looking like ghosts when I raise my hand and claim my name

Wearing regular clothes and pink berets

I am no different

Yet I am glared at by bandana brothers

Who are sure I don’t deserve to wield heritage when I know nothing about it

Yet they were not there

On Saturday mornings

When the smell of oil and potatoes hit the pan

And my Granny

Would throw hot dogs in

Saying that this is what a real Mexicano eats

Because they were not there

When I explained to fourth grade friends

About Ninas and Ninos

And Uncle Nono

And how long it took me to keep them all straight

Because although I am not a Garcia or a Martinez

As common as Smith

I know this

My heart is Burquena at least

Though I laugh at Lynette

I know that I’ve called every soda Coke at one point and time

I know I always have a Burque state of mind

Because I may not go to every Lobos game or sing the national anthem for isotopes fame

But I am Gabriela Esperanza Yolanda Guajardo

And a person is not a name**