aluminum foil shimmers
against the drying acrylic paint, chalky easter eggs like gloves lacing my fingertips and forearms.
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my mother speaks my language.
not my mother here on earth, but my mother in heaven. she speaks to me in my dreams in the language of my ancestors - she does not know the sinful syllables of white men, she teaches me to do the same. she speaks to me like she spoke to juan diego, she speaks to me like she spoke to all of mexico. |
About MeHi! I'm Andrea. I really like words. Categories
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September 2023
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