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Rosita’s Hands

Rosita’s Hands
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Rosita’s Hands by Thelma T. Reyna   Rosita’s hands soaked in the early morning suds, the scalding pinking her skin as she swooshed and swirled the scouring pad and scrubbed pans until they sparkled. Then her prune0skin hands wiped baby’s face, peach oatmeal sticking on Allegra’s chin and rosebud mouth, dangling like mushy earrings on […]

Crickets

Crickets

  “Crickets” by Thelma Reyna   Crickets detest silence. They’re sirens with nonstop trills that sunder the summer air as they tear me, too. Crickets moan, and I recollect sultry Texas nights and fights with my man under trees in a foresaken park, making love while crickets shamed the dark, or crying alone on the […]

Ancestors Dance

Ancestors Dance

  Eagle migrated to the lands of the Ice Tribe. Diffused patches of light sparkled on his wings. Among the greenish glow of the northern lights Native ancestors danced in the next life. Sealskin boots stomped and turned on a floor lit by stars. Eagle thanked the sky for this gift of colors. Asked the […]

To Charles Bukowski: About Poems

To Charles Bukowski: About Poems

We welcome Thelma Reyna and thank her for contributing a poem to “Write Here.”         “To Charles Bukowski: About Poems” by Thelma Reyna “if (a poem) doesn’t come bursting out of you… if it never does roar out of you… unless it comes out of your soul like a rocket… don’t do […]

I’m From…

I’m From…

    I’m from mountains and sycamore trees, from white oleomargarine that needs to be massaged with yellow coloring. I’m from homemade sandwiches to take to school for lunch. I’m from an unlocked house that is empty from morning to dinnertime, and I spend time there or at my grandma’s house next door after school […]

Surrender

Surrender

As I grow older, the mattress grows heavier, yet still how I loathe a bed whose sheets no longer feel crisp, whose scent is no longer of lavender or thyme but of too many nights passed pondering why, what next, when, how. In three clean sweeps the bed is stripped, blankets in the corner, linens […]

Scribblings: Week 15

Scribblings: Week 15

My walks through Eden, the transcendent little park across the street from my apartment, are normally in wide loops around a lagoon. But, today, as I was moseying along, thinking about doors, of all things – why some slam shut and others open, if only a crack – a barricade of yellow tape and I […]

That Lock of Hair

That Lock of Hair

It shone upon —not often— That lock of hair That curled Right at his temple But the light had to be just right And it often —most times— Was not. The flight of a word, Or a tone, Could hinge— Landing hard, Landing softly —on a single note To pierce Or to piece together. Timing […]

Scribblings: Week 14

Scribblings: Week 14

The best gifts are perhaps the unexpected ones…and, this week, I received three. Isn’t it interesting how three gifts arrived? No doubt you have heard the expression, “good things come in threes.” And, of course, bad things tend to take a cue from the musketeers as well. But here is something you may not have […]

Scribblings Week 13

Scribblings Week 13

The ants are back. Which only goes to prove the profound truth of the French proverb, plus ca change, plus c’est la même chose. Yes, “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” In California, I was ceaselessly at war with ants. You know the kind—the six-legged, bulbous headed, plundering fiends that, like […]

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