The Rift
by Cynthia Pinto
She
detachment
from something right
not even right, just not wrong
like a seagull flying close to the water discouraged to swim
starving for fish
Me
swimming with the past
catching it with bare hands
willing to share
eating alone
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Sierra Parsons hails from Culver City, California, and is a freshman at UCSC’s Porter College. Apart from her intense passion for Theatre and being fluent in Spanish, she also enjoys all things aquatic and everything in the creative realm, including playing the piano, singing, and writing music and poetry alike. Back home, she has a sister, a mother, a father, and two fat cats But here in Santa Cruz she finds a humbling magic scattered among the branches of the redwoods, and swears there are fairies and sprites playing among the deer, banana slugs, and other wildlife that are so abundant around campus. If she’s not in class or rehearsal, you can find her sipping a mocha and plotting her next big adventure. She has no fear of failure, only the fear of not doing enough.
winter songs
a collection of poems
Hoodwinked
.
.
She lured us in
just like the guy my grandma had warned me about
With candy and two cute dogs,
Driving a old beat up SUV, smiling real big
But she didn’t look like a kidnapper.
She was a friend of my dad’s,
here to watch my soccer game.
Wearing a high ponytail, a bright purple scrunchy and even a pair of converse, just like me.
She was feminine, and fun, just like I wanted to be.
Afterwards, she invited us to get Foster’s Freeze Butterfinger milkshakes,
something my mom never did.
I knew who she was, she was the woman they fought about
Late at night, behind the closed kitchen door.
I knew my mom hated her, and my dad loved her, And that I shouldn’t like her.
But as I said, she had candy and two Rhodesian Ridgebacks.
So I got in her Bronco and listened to rock music with the windows down
A band my mom didn’t like.
Then we just so happened to see her at the U-pick strawberry patch,
They spotted each other from across the field, smiling big.
She hugged him, then each of us too
And invited me and my sister to go get pedicures with her and her sister
My sister and I had never gotten our nails done before
Our mom thought manicures were flashy.
Not long after, my parents called a family meeting.
Mom was in tears, before we even sat down
They told us they were getting a divorce, that dad was moving out.
They weren’t in love anymore, but they kept saying it wasn’t our fault.
I held both their hands at the same time, for the last time.
Knowing I was a traitor to one and an accomplice to the other.
I became accustomed to duplicity
Batting for Dad and swinging for Mom
Switching weekly, in endless cycles of custody
A chameleon, changing color based on my environment
I was Daddy’s girl or Mommy’s girl,
depending on the day of the week.
A few months later she was packing our lunches and signing notes “Mom”.
She set our curfews and and kicked out my brother
demanded we take our elbows off the table and her Ridgeback bit my little sister
She stopped taking us to get pedicures and never had candy
She talked badly about my friends and family
Something my mom never did.
It wasn’t until she had us locked in,
Crouched low in the back seat of her beat up SUV
A ring on her finger and her hands on the wheel
That I realized there was no changing course
and grandma had it right all along.
