For my big sister, Jessica. I love you dearly.
My father’s name is on a woman in Mexico and on another in Louisiana, but never on my mother and never on me. It is a name that fades on the court papers that prove he was an encantado who had enough of the land and returned to the water.
I become the child of my mother, until my mother marries. She sheds the skin of Guizar like a culebra. Years later I try to do the same, but my mouth cannot form the words; it is a foreign language I cannot speak.
About the Creator
C.M. Vazquez
She/Her. English Professor. Aspiring Novelist. 30+. Proud Latina.
I'm obsessed with my cat and fantasy fiction.
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Workshop
You write about a hungover unicorn vomiting on the side of the road. People laugh. The workshops continue. You write more. Write about the complexities between duty and autonomy. Write about the Chosen One. Write about religion. Write about the constructs of virtue and purity. Write about the grunginess of New York City (because all urban fantasies are in New York City). Write about guns. Write about family. Write about alcoholism. Write about the border, both the real one and the fictional one. Write about being Mexican and not Mexican enough. And about Kendra, the nonbinary unicorn.
By C.M. Vazquez3 years ago in Poets
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