Hora Santa
Tia Angela died today
two years ago and today
her hora santa happens somewhere
in the Bronx while I decide that I'd rather
take the train to Times Square.
I remember her with a tooth missing
and always the short hairdo and the
long, wide, dresses that always shone
because Tia Angela dressed bright
like the candles that are being lit
in her name somewhere
in the Bronx
but I'm still in Manhattan not asking
Santa Maria to pray for her soul
not meeting my cousin,
not helping my Mami and Abuela take
the subway. Instead I'm wondering
if I can get away with eating a
McDonald's meal, in this, most holiest
of hours.
© Yazcaminante, 2011
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