Once in the Caribbean brine,
away from the prying eyes of my father,
lost in blue with the smell of fish-bones on our skin.
I gave myself to you, soft as the inside of a mollusk,
bashful as the turtles we were chasing.
Coast after coast following the nesting sites,
every egg marked and mapped,
each freckle traced by your finger–naming constellations.
We navigated with the laughter of our crew,
two desperate boys, who robbed at night
the future of those nests, unseen to us ‘the protectors’
while we stole each other’s breath under the Antinous stars.
Plundered nests before the sun entered those waters,
under the fading eye of Yucayú,
just as you left without saying adiós
leaving me alone on sand, ocean, and new discovered fire.
Amelia Díaz Ettinger, born in Mexico and raised in Puerto Rico, has written poems that reflect the struggle with identity. In 2015, her first book of poetry, Speaking at a Time, was published by Redbat Books. Her work has appeared in Willawaw Journal, Windfall, The Avocet, Speaking of Ourselves: Women of Color Anthology, Oregon East Magazine, and Accentos Review.
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