• Poetry
  • About the Author
  • Publications/Interviews Archive
  • Contact
Menu

Cristina del Canto Poetry Collection

I have rebuilt myself, like a burned down cathedral
keeping my stained glass windows
as a memory of who I once was

Your Custom Text Here

Cristina del Canto Poetry Collection

  • Poetry
    • Remember Me?
    • Yellow
    • Caracas
    • Man of Jell-O
    • All these things traveling through me still don't bring me to you
    • Way of Sorrows
    • Banned
    • Forever Cathedral
    • 3,2,1,0
    • Morning Routine
    • Hugo Chávez Still Lives
    • Venezuela
    • I Could Have Really Forgotten You If We Had Never Met
    • Green Trails Days
    • Rafflesia Arnoldii
    • Lou's Blues
    • Snowmen in Windsor Park
  • About the Author
  • Publications/Interviews Archive
  • Contact
shutterstock_27441190.jpg

Caracas

I am bound to her by blood,
this madwoman of a city
with eyes that see,
a comatose heart, with no feeling.

One, two, three hundred,
a thousand —
we are all carbon copies
of her silicone breasts, collagen cheeks
teeth bleached whiter
than the pearls we adorn ourselves with.

I was a child
when I left this madwoman,
mother of my younger years.
I left her
drinking cuba libres,
stirring ice with her finger,
her nails crimson red.

I said, “Goodbye, I am leaving you.”
She turned her face back to the barrio
and said, “Adios, Muchacha.”

Years later, I look back on my youth.
I remember her as
the mother I lost,
the sister I never had,
the woman I was afraid to become.

If only she knew
how easy she was to leave,
how difficult she was to forget.

Caracas

I am bound to her by blood,
this madwoman of a city
with eyes that see,
a comatose heart, with no feeling.

One, two, three hundred,
a thousand —
we are all carbon copies
of her silicone breasts, collagen cheeks
teeth bleached whiter
than the pearls we adorn ourselves with.

I was a child
when I left this madwoman,
mother of my younger years.
I left her
drinking cuba libres,
stirring ice with her finger,
her nails crimson red.

I said, “Goodbye, I am leaving you.”
She turned her face back to the barrio
and said, “Adios, Muchacha.”

Years later, I look back on my youth.
I remember her as
the mother I lost,
the sister I never had,
the woman I was afraid to become.

If only she knew
how easy she was to leave,
how difficult she was to forget.

shutterstock_27441190.jpg
Forever Cathedral
shutterstock_96137384 (1).jpg
about 10 years ago

copyright © Cristina del Canto