by Katalina Gamarra

Water ripples
across the pond as
I weep for my forefathers.
My forefathers who
one after the other
their leave
of me.

My father’s ill-health
his inability
to care for himself.
A childhood on the streets
took him first.

I entered my second decade,
just as I was beginning
to process
his undoing
of me.

A year later
my grandfather followed—
taking from me
but leaving me
angry that one has been taken each year.

Am I to know June
as the month of ghosts?
Will my summers be marked
by the slashing of souls?
I could not
fully love
until their demise.

Why, June?

Why do your thirty days
on robbing me?
Why do you renew
my grief
just as I’ve started
to sleep again?
Why am I your bitch?

Katalina Gamarra

Katalina is a California native currently living in Boston, MA. In addition to writing, her passions include reading, music, theatre, sewing, knitting, and baking. An avid fan of writers from James Joyce to Stephen Sondheim, Katalina strongly believes that art saves lives, and her goal is to help people help themselves through the power of creativity.

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