Abuelita. a poem by Juanita Rey

Abuelita There was never a television in her house. Just an old radio that ran off a battery. She was always averse to plugging things in. La sala was lined with photographs in descending order, from her stern mother and father, to one of her wedding day, down to my sister and myself. With everyContinue reading “Abuelita. a poem by Juanita Rey”