Why i spell my name in all lowercase aka i could have been Lourdes By julie corrales
my mother's ability to dream in hell inflicted
a code switch between my first
and last names i can’t say
julie corrales
in one language
she turned her back on her father
sacrificed second surname Navarro —
the first of my limbs severed
on altar america insurance
on a long shot
but mami was brave
in my middle name she hid
a stolen hope -- a hope that sisterhood
could breech conquest,
that there was a thing still untouched
on body of indigenous woman
that pixie cut onyx hair
stout brown legs small breasts
was woman enough
that feather fingers of an adopted
sister would always reach gently for her face
that she'd always have this friend
alongside her to scrub white women’s houses
to split the profits to help carry humiliation to the car
that front seat Ford station wagon therapy
on a thousand nights she'd rather stay
in that driveway than go inside
would heal 500 years
but her dream glinted caught the light
outshone her place and the stars envied
they turned my middle name into vengeful
lash meant for my mother's arrogant
back landing on the soles of my feet
now shame drips from lips that mouth
Lourdes my mother's daring
turned naivety as foolish and damning
as moctezuma’s welcoming of white gods
with steel see my mother also welcomed
a pale friend shapely and slithering
opened wide the gates introduced her to my father
made her a god dedicated her daughter
both kingdoms fell
now my name pendulums
between the old world and the new
ghosts and benedicts
every syllable howls regret
breaks towards shadows in a cave
so i amnesia the price cash in my bond
i bury Lourdes tuck it in the folds of silk
inside my mother’s coffin
i spell my name quiet pretty
and harmless
the poet’s way
unassuming far from light
so it’ll never glint never shine
never reveal that it holds still
a woman’s hope for her daughter