Sandra Cisneros | Adrian Ernesto Cepeda

I don’t see a Mango street house,
nor sounds of a silhouetted loose
woman splashing fire on howling
creek. I feel your pelo strands
long negro y caramello and all
the malo boys that tried to comb
you. I would never want to shame Continue reading “Sandra Cisneros | Adrian Ernesto Cepeda”

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