To the hair tie that snapped

Ayling Dominguez

To the hair tie that snapped

I’m sorry that I asked you
to hold so much
back

I assumed you could, too,
since I myself
have a knack for that

Burn

One day, soon, I will stop burning my tongue
I will blow on and chill hotness with the vastness of my lungs
But until then, let me reminisce on my mama’s kiss
The sole one she planted before I drove her to her wits’
end
Begin again
and again
Don’t let the coffee burn
The bean juice won’t taste the same
I got something to say
I got something to say
Past the hurt past the dull past the lull the newest normalcy of collective hurt I suck my teeth
I burn
My tongue
I burn
I burn.

Home

I found home in my lover’s mother’s eyes,
amid the small, specific losses we catalogued worldwide
Warmth and light still found their way into our lives.

Hay que soñar

En mi vida, gente que me cuida hay de sobra
amor, en cantidades como siempre decía Walter Mercado
y aun así, la tristeza me pesa
lloro lágrimas turquesas
por el frío que me entra hasta por los huesos,
llevo suéter bien, pero bien, gruesa
la lengua está a punto de reventar con secretos y sentimientos
pero sigue ilesa
Sigue color de frambuesa
como bien dijo mi abuelito: demasiado traviesa
Tengo pendiente mil y una promesas
aunque mami y yo nunca nos miramos durante la cena,
mucho que extraño la sobremesa
Vengan, escuchen, que les traigo grande sorpresa
hay que soñar otro mundo
esta realidad, esta pandemia, ya es demasiado espesa
un boleto a nuevo mundo— ¿cuánto dirías tú que cuesta?

Ayling Zulema Dominguez (she/her) is a first-generation Dominicana-Mexicana living in Bronx, New York. As a poet and creative in an abolitionist mindset, her work is the stuff of forging community; of affirming belonging as the first step toward liberation; of imagining new, better, and more radically loving worlds. @rhymeswithmean

To the hair tie that snapped

Ayling Dominguez