I showed my mother my arm with its three tear drops of bites falling down it when she spotted two from beneath my sleeve —red with nail marks— and asked to see the others. She frowned,
Papi opened his palm And offered me a lollipop. And I, timid as a new-born cactus Yet without spears, accepted. And I took it in my mouth Without knowing what it was.
It seemed such a novelty, spouting from your lips, like a fountain dripping sounds so fluid I was sure my eyes saw each letter on the nighttime sky before a single sound funneled into my ears.