I have never once gotten through Pat Mora’s poem “Elena” without crying, so heartfelt and beautiful—a mother’s worst fear. It’s the last line that chokes me. Conversely, I can’t read Angela Vigil-Piñón’s “por la calle Zarzamora” without laughing at the coquettish women that saunter into the bar. I have been one of those women, Aqua Net y todo. I have seen these women and they ARE beautiful. I’ve been thinking and thinking about the truth in Angela de Hoyos “Go Ahead, Ask Her”
all the gentlemen
So sad, so right, so thoughtful.
Is this chicana poetry? Is this poetry for masses? Who are the masses? Can they be one and the same? Wish everyone could see what I see…