In loving memory of my grandmothers, las amo mucho.

I, A Tired Pitirre

My dear, I have thrown myself

onto an earthly road on which

I know no direction. And I’m

afraid that I missed our equinox.

Serenity—I can’t feel its misty gaze

upon me, and I wait a little longer.

The static of our phone call crawls

into my skin. I don’t remember

what I last said to you.

I feign innocence, touched by

the remnants of a summer long gone.

And it’s quiet—I can’t be blessed

by the storms I sat through.

But I was blessed by the last moments

of that humid living room, the

last meal in that kitchen. Or was

I cursed knowing I never truly said

“Goodbye?”

For such a small pitirre, I found myself

shivering in a house that wasn’t my own.

I search for those remnants, but I fear

they’ve been thrown, replaced by

a sun not native to me. And the

static grows stronger as the distance

between me and their warmth

now seems infinite. Time is irrelevant here.

Suddenly I am forced to an eternity.

I was destined to defend myself from

the inevitable guaraguao—a creature

so familiar to my tongue; however,

I found my own life’s work to be none other than

the guaraguaos themselves.

Truth be told, I purposefully flew

farther away than I’d ever done

so that the guaraguaos wouldn’t

destroy what was left behind.

I like to think I succeeded,

that my homely island miles away

sways gently with the ocean breeze,

and it’s always sunny there.

But I’ve seen the papers,

I’ve seen the memories I held dearly

slowly dissipate until the only

thing I remember is the scent of a better past.

And I am tired.