My eager fingers ripped through the skin on my abdomen searching for her in the need of an explanation

She tried to run and hide in shame

She sat in fetal position within my veins

Rocking back and forth pleading for perdon

She got up and ran through my arteries

She thought I wouldn’t be able to see her beneath my feet

Right by the roots of what makes me, me

I heard her breathing

Her chin to her shoulder

And her hair as a veil

Made of the fabric that is loomed from expectations

Silicone smeared through the history she was supposed to save for me

I reached for her chin

Her face a duplicate of mine

I wish I had been there before she let them cut out her shine

Cut out what was rightfully mine

She let them gut her like a fish

They cut through her skin but not her spirit

Which was all I was able to inherit

La Lipo, pa cuando? They demanded a set date

I watched her try to cry, but her tear ducts had calcified

She was barely alive

Just a mirage what what once was

There are no batas in  el paraiso

La dama Dominicana agoniza

By her feet I saw the spit of Patria, Minerva and Maria Teresa Mirabal.

She phoned her apology without looking me in the eye

She sat in a room, whose walls were composed of my dreams

Her hips too wide for the throne I had built for her when I grated my achievements with hope,

To impress my ancestors.

I bowed my tiny Taino nose and clenched my jaw that ends in African bembes and pretended I couldn’t smell the rust

Of what was in her but not of her

She was rotting from within

Smelled of bad intentions and hypersexuality in a bubble of puss

Biopoliremos, excuses, and full body fajas

What she did to try to cure her insecurities

Forgetting that I resided in her ovaries

Like she resided in her abuelas

Disrespecting el caldero

Todo en el nombre de el dinero

Y lo que piense el jevo

Y el celebro en zero

I asked God for a fair trial

And we both stood on the scale of justice

I looked her in the eyes as gravity tried to reach for balance between us 

And even with her indentations due to calcification, decay and rust

The scale refused to tip in my favor

Her and I are equal.

–O.R.

Oelania Rubino is a mother, writer and an artist. She was born in Dominican Republic and moved to Brooklyn, New York in 1998. She lives life based on sarcasm and failed attempts at lowering her consumption of arroz con pollo.