Archive | April 13, 2011

Papi and Mija

by Christina Saenz Inside the walls of ivy, With tired eyes on my books The sun never shines. My skin turns white. More wrinkle lines. Outside the field of concrete, With leather hands on levers, The sun throws its rays. His skin gets brown. He counts the days. On the phone, I proclaim, “Papi No […]

Continue reading