I told everyone
I was moving overseas
when really, I was just
going back to Texas
and the graveyard of
cascarones in my
backyard, my white
skateboard rattling down
the driveway
no longer my father’s
hijita linda
I remember the moon like
I remember burying
my face in the fur of the
stray dog I used to meet
on the corner by the bus
stop when I was a child
My first and last visit
home before spinning out
among the hydrogen stars
Translation note: cascarones is the name for dyed egg shells filled with confetti, used (read: cracked on the heads of others) on festive occasions. Hijita linda translates to precious little daughter
Sofia Eun-Young Guerra is a writer from Tacoma, Washington. Her work has previously appeared and is forthcoming in JMWW, Neologism Poetry Journal, The Inflectionist Review, fifth wheel press, and Eunoia Review. Outside of writing, she spends her time folding origami butterflies and reading about sharks.