Brenda Venezia teaches at CSU Fresno. She is the director of Fresno Women Read, and a member of the Central Valley Women Writers of Color Collective. Her work has appeared in The Collagist, Puerto Del Sol, Luna Luna Magazine, and elsewhere.
After My Grandparents (and Pedro Infante)
Swallows tumble from my throat,
which is to say they are done with me,
have done what they could in the dustbath,
kicked up the dry earth in my soul —
soil of Nuevo León y Texas
y Illinois y California
y más, maybe there's more,
I'm still tracing lines
in the sand
that made me
— and flicked it
along their wings,
threading my dirt
through their feathers,
plucking parasites
from our bodies to fling
out through my mouth
like dissonant notes
filtered out through wild birds
spread together
in a sieve of group song.
I have Winter Tangerine to thank for this piece, which began as a response to a rad prompt from their summer workshop application.