I stopped drinking coffee after Papita Fidel passed away

He always woke up at 2am to brew his first morning coffee

But today I’m brewing the remaining cafe de palo

In the hopes it will chase away my dream ghosts

Have you ever tried to photograph the full moon?

It’s always distorted

I don’t know what I’m chasing but

This morning I woke up

Again on the illegal side of the sun

In      contaminated      dreamland

In the middle of the night

The moon ruptured itself into a wound

her body is honey, rue and lemon leaves

Obscured in a white gauze

I      am      tired      of      contaminated dreaming

My grandmother used to say the lunares on my body, our bodies

Are the moon’s sisters

Each creating constellation armors in our flesh

I found a new one this morning on the top of breast

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