RIP Gloria

It hit me last night while in the middle of rearranging furniture. My belongings were spread out everywhere: papers upon books upon photographs upon unmatched socks. While sorting that disheveled mess of disassembled shelf and altar, I couldn't help but cry. I don’t want Gloria Anzaldúa to be dead.

Amidst the mess, I grabbed a notebook and started drawing. There, now you can be my moon.