El Proyecto de la literatura puertorriqueña

Charlie the Llama (pobre Charlie) was attacked 

by our Rottweiler while mom wasn’t watching. 

Back in the day, mom left dad

in the back with the dog pack 

while she got the lemonade. 

The dogs ripped the smallest one 

limb from limb. Mom says animals are a safe 

intimacy, but that’s because she’s the one in control.

The dominant one. The head of the pack. Top dog.

Her Chihuahua, Peanut, bit and tugged 

at the back of my pajamas and she teased me 

for how little the pack respects me. 

Charlie recovered from the dog attack. 

When he was finally able to walk again, 

mom brought him inside to tend 

to his wounds and he slipped, 

hit his head on the radiator lining the wall. 

He died right there.

It’s never what you think is going to kill you. 

Except it is. When I die, I’ll do it myself. 

When I was 25, before ever having had sex, 

I bought a vibrator and penetrated myself 

first so no one could say

they took anything from me.