Dominicana

by Angie Cruz

Mamá has lived long enough to learn a man doesn’t know what he thinks until a woman makes him think it.

Letters are a lasso, words on a page that we fling out, hoping, hoping.

even one drop of water could fill a bucket if you wait around long enough.

Look, Teresa, I finally say, when one’s hungry no bread is too hard to eat. I have no choice.

Always worry when someone says don’t worry: my father’s words.

Take the needle to the thread. Not the other way around. That’s the secret. Always yield to the needle because it’s inflexible. It’s the secret with people too. If a person seems inflexible, yield, then slip in sideways and get what you want.

Men can only perform like men, Mamá always says, when women are doing everything. We’re invisible little workers so they can puff out their chests.

Finally she understands everything I have sacrificed, everything I have survived for her and for the family.