Categories
latina literary mental health

Quarantine Poem

Watching

I watch the site

Incessantly.

Cases: 64,675.           

Deaths: 910.

Bookmarked on my laptop.

My editor called:

First our hours were cut

Then final time cards due

Third for unemployment instructions.

It’s late afternoon. Refresh.

Cases: 65,564

Deaths: 929.

I try to do

Something.

To not waste a moment

Of this weird freedom

To be home

Without end.

I checked for symptoms.

It’s before bedtime. Refresh.

Cases: 68,568

Deaths: 1,035

I try to read

I try to write

I try to remember who

We were before this.

Categories
latina small town theatre travel

Viva Pachuca

New Year’s Resolution. Make website for Pachuca. It’s getting there. Check it out!
https://pachucaproductions.org/

Categories
latina literary travel

Places Like Home

literarykitchen.net

Head over to the Literary Kitchen

Up at http://www.literarykitchen.net you’ll find the anthology that I and the other writerchicks I know have always wanted to see: places like home –an anthology of stories that saw their first sparkle of light in the writing prompts Ariel Gore gave us in her online writing courses we’ve taken over the years. Check it out. A chapter of the novel I’m working on is in here! Yay!

Categories
arts & crafts california latina travel

The Second @ the Hotel Mission de Oro

On New Year’s Day I got an email saying a poem I’d recently written would be up on HipMama Zine. Yay! I’ve been working on longer term projects all year so I’ve published a good deal less and nearly neglected my blog altogether. But The Husband follows my blog (has been since before he became The Husband) and suggested that I might consider going back to it more often and work on blog posts or poems I wasn’t going to put other places. Like a zine without the folding and the papercuts. So in that spirit, I give you my second day of 2020.

After a long day of driving I ended up here: https://www.hotelmissiondeoro.com/

Often when I drive from LA back to Plumas County I can’t make it in one go anymore. So I wind up stopping in Santa Nella. I never thought to even look at Hotel Mission de Oro as I assumed I was priced out, but hello Expedia and the fact that motels around there have uncomfortable beds and a price range that’s really only a $25 difference, I gave it a try.

LOVED IT.

It’s like hotels are supposed to be run. Also I have a thing for lamps.

I am a complete sucker for the whole tile thing. What’s more with the new house which hasn’t had an upgrade ever I am checking out everyone’s bathrooms all the time. #middleagednewlywed

So yeah, I liked the room.

I traveled with teenagers. I repeat TEENAGERS and as the mother of them –I knew immediately I needed to do two things this morning before heading back on the road for 5 hours.

  1. Get myself ready for the day and
  2. Get them awake. Tell them to be ready to leave by 9 am and threaten to leave them there if they didn’t.
  3. 3. Take myself to breakfast ALONE.

That’s the brioche French toast & coffee at The Kitchen. Unlike the free breakfasts at nearby motels. This set me back a few dollars but it was quiet and peaceful and I could wait for food without listening to Fox News (no TV in this dining room).

I even got the chance to write:

It started my year off right , I think.

I will definitely be back. Because all of us agreed they were the best beds on the road.

Categories
latina literary

On the Eve of the Fifteenth

This poem of mine came out in HipMama Zine today! Such a cool way to start a new year with a poem published on the first day. Many thanks to Ariel Gore for that.

http://hipmamazine.com/margaret-elysia-garcia-on-the-eve-of-fifteenth/

Categories
latina literary

Nicked Named (a poem)

Two days in

And they give her

A nickname

Two syllables instead

Of three—

Her given name too full

Of beauty, of vowel, of nuance.

High school begins.

Fresh start.

The time we throw on new identities

The time we suppress the old.

I’m not allowed hugs

What makes me think I can have names?

Two syllables–

A name I didn’t chose for her

Something short, ugly

More American. Joking. Fun.

They don’t mean nothing by it.

Easy to remember:

Like knowing one’s place.

I have to be silent on this one.

It’s not my battle.

I spent a lot of time on that name,

Nine months as she turned

And kicked and got ready to be born.

I am reminded of crossings

When one of her grandfathers crossed over

having his Mayan name chopped in half

to make it easier on everyone

but the one erased.

Categories
latina literary Uncategorized

Daughter Lands Borders

I’m from the land of no apologies

of no forgiveness

of something you did when you were seven being held against you

from set bed times and daily chores:

that one load of laundry, empty the trash, sweep the floor

nothing in the sink; nothing on the floor perfection

A family of Latinas who call each other deep die cut names

imprinted and wrong on our light and dark skin equally

white girl.  brown girl. both.

I’m from households without tv or  Spanish

with loud Mexican music on a Saturday morning

to accompany cleaning

playing on an exquisite stereo

I’m from you don’t retire

you work until you die

from you aren’t supposed to have bills; pay cash

i’m from trust no one

i’m from generosity doesn’t call attention to itself

pristine vehicles and manicured lawns

because no one is going to call us out

i’m letter writing

taking it to the streets

making sure the powers that be

change their minds

whether they want to or not

I am dark lipstick

and hoop earrings

of never going outside in sweatpants

I’m on the altar of Our Lady of Guadalupe

and she watches over us all

standing up to the darkness

blue robed; gold starred

a force field of prayers

both answered and still asking for more

(with apologies to George Ella Lyon’s I’m From)