Stories from The Moon / Cuentos de la Luna

When I was nine years old, a girl named Ro stole my voice with the help of our second-grade teacher. We must go back in time to understand why they were interested in my voice. The problem with my lungs started early on. I spent most of my toddler years in bed with a cold…

Fat Pony lives somewhere between Herzogenbuchsee and Wynigen. Pony Gordo vive en algún lugar entre Herzogenbuchsee y Wynigen. The first time I saw him I was on the train on my way to Bern. La primera vez que lo vi, iba en el tren hacia Berna. He seemed to live with some sheep and a…

This is how you love someone who doesn’t love you anymore. This is how you speak to someone who doesn’t listen to you. This is how you forget someone who doesn’t remember you. This is how it heals to hurt. This is how you recollect all the years that someone threw away. This is how…

Te voy a contar mis historias antes de que se fermenten y les salgan burbujas. No me gusta que mis historias se vuelvan ácidas. Imagínate a mi, como de trece años. Una falda larga con cuadros verde bosque y azul marino. Un chaleco verde, y una camisa blanca. Todos los botones cerrados hasta arriba. Haz…

I will tell you my stories now before they ferment and turn fizzy. I do not like my stories sour. Picture me, around thirteen years old. Long checkered skirt in forest green and navy blue. Green vest, white polo. Buttoned all the way up. Zoom out and look at the room. Wooden bunk beds, wooden…

Last summer before Hazel left we went to the forest near my place. She brought Marco and Lu and I brought Kai with me. Two humans and three dogs venturing into the forest. When Hazel speaks I forget how young she is. But then again, I often forget that I am not old myself. The…

When you left I microplaned my heart and sent the porous bits in this letter. Right now, if you opened the letter, you wouldn’t see the pieces. They would fall on the kitchen floor and you’d absent-mindedly step on them with your big Hobbit feet. Crunch. Crunch. In a few years, in time, you might…

If you’d like to listen to this poem in English and Spanish, please click here. There is a space between my brain and my throat that separates two countries. /Hay un espacio entre mi cerebro y mi garganta que separa dos países. If I could fit an entire world in one syllable it would be…