Elizabeth Acevedo

A truth
you did not want
to know
can rot & grow mold
in the pit
of your stomach,
can sour
every taste
you’ve ever had,
can cast a stench
so bad you forget
you’ve ever known
a sweet thing.

I once heard a rumor
that goldfish have an evolutionary gene
where they’ll only develop as big as the tank they’re put into.
They need space to stretch. And I wonder if
Twin and I are keeping each other small.
Taking up the space that would have let the other grow.

when someone who doesn’t know you is sizing you up
like you’re a broken clock and they’re trying to translate the ticks.

The poet talks about being black, about being a woman,
about how beauty standards make it seem she isn’t pretty.

It was just a poem, Xiomara, I think.
But it felt more like a gift.

And maybe this is why Papi stopped listening to music,
because it can make your body want to rebel. To speak up.
And even that young I learned music can become a bridge
between you and a total stranger.

I close my eyes and let myself
find in music what I’ve always searched for:
a way away.

Every time I think about Aman
poems build inside me
like I’ve been gifted a box of metaphor Legos
that I stack and stack and stack.

Sharing space, but not words.

if Aman were a poem
he’d be written slumped across the page,
sharp lines, and a witty punch line
written on a bodega brown paper bag