Diana Marie Delgado We couldn't own ourselves, so we lived through each other. When no one could decipher the speaker, we spoke, Mom, come sit at the table with me, pat down my hair. In the bedroom where all things are said with a sigh, I do have more fun--butterflies land on my leg-- and I can't move. The day I asked, We ready to leave? She told me, Go, you're old enough. She was many people then. All of them, in love.
Prairie Schooner – University of Nebraska Press
Published: Jul 21, 2013