María Luisa Arroyo, poet & educator

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I grew up in the North End, an island between two bridges,

one to West Side where we would sneak to buy pizza

at Mamma Mia’s and the other one that arched over a highway

and separated Springfield from our world. I grew up in the North End,

an island, where “si no me das de beber, lloro…”

jostled up against “Alaba el Señor junto con María”,

where alegría was kids yelling “mami, tírame una peseta”

whenever the Ding Dong cart rolled by or even better, whenever

the penny candy truck slid up the street like a whale on wheels. [...]

from: "I Grew Up in the North End"

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Mami called us away from the roach trap line

where novice factory workers, fresh from the island,

and I, fresh from Germany, poked

protruding yellow chunks of roach bait

into black traps with long-stem Q-tips

we dunked in alcohol. [...]

from: "Barreras"

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Tears and Tears: A Ghazal

In June, feel my son, the eagle, emerge, tear

across the border toward birth. Taste my tears.

Mamani, laugh and let the pomegranates fall

and break open crimson to catch your tears.

Five years old, you find Jesus crucified

on the fire escape and, unafraid, wipe his tears.

Two years and still the wound the size of a grapefruit

oozes on Vilma’s belly - a doctor’s damaging tear.

Glee is two boys racing go carts in June.

The wind chases Shaheen around curves he tears.

Rhea, Zeus and Vulcan carpool to school

as you read about the souls the Harpies’ claws tear.

“Faith, courage and wisdom. They’re all inside me …”

María, croon to India.Arie. Mantras heal tears and tears.

María Luisa Arroyo