BIO
Born and raised in urban Los Angeles, Angelina Sáenz is a poet whose work focuses on memory, mujeres and motherhood. A public school teacher in LAUSD, she is eternally inspired by the daily dynamics of family life, classroom and community. She is a UCLA Writing Project fellow, an alumna of the VONA/Voices Workshop for Writers of Color and a Macondo Writer’s Workshop Fellow. Her work has appeared in venues such as Diálogo, Split this Rock, Angels Flight Literary West and every other. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing and hosts the monthly poetry reading series, La Palabra, in Northeast Los Angeles.
Humidity transports me
to musty brick homes along dusty roads
moist sunrise rooster calls
ragged dogs roaming on roofs
to Tepic, Nayarit
Neighbors in my Tia’s living room tiendita call
¡Quiero!
I turn in stinky sheets dried on rainy clothes line
Muffled
kitchen voices and clinging of dishes
Chancla
shuffles on concrete floor and fan’s soft whir
ease
me into waking hours
Uncle
paces in and out of floral curtain doorway
judging
my lazy yanqui-ass for still being in bed
at
6am
Sidewalk
broom bristles to dark men
in
thin button-up shirts and sooty slacks
Cracked
feet in worn huaraches and calloused hands
load
up triciclos de carga
Elote
helados tamales frutas flores
Unforgiving
tropical sun angrily shines
on
walk along uneven cobble-stone street
Human
mass on bus radiates moisture
The
deaf and mute guitarist
who
has memorized death climb
up
rusty stairs plays random strings and screams
from
the top of his lungs into my hot ears
Helado de limón nos refresca en la sombra de los guayabos en la plaza central
Nos
subimos a un taxi
ventanas
medias abiertas
nubladas
por la humedad
Humedad
Parallel dimension
And
I’m not talking about damp
I’m
not talking about
Seattle
San Sebastián
San Francisco
I’m talking about tropical humidity
When it is not humid
my feet are on the ground
I am working mothering writing hustling
But this morning I am waterside in Miami
The mist crawls across the ocean
as humidity wraps my heart in banana leaves
Estoy sola
en la terraza del hotel en Panajachel
sorbiendo café con vista a los volcanes
Atitlán, Tolimán y San Pedro
En la superficie del lago
el sol da luz a diamantes
Las bugambilias dan cuadro a mi melancolía
mientras leo a nuestro querido Rubén Darío
en aquella mesita de madera
cubierta de corte Maya
Rubén escribe
Sin mujer la vida es pura prosa