Why i spell my name in all lowercase aka i could have been Lourdes By julie corrales

my mother's ability to dream in hell    inflicted 

a code switch   between my first

and last names           i can’t say

   julie   corrales

   in one language

she turned her back on her father

  sacrificed second surname   Navarro —

the first of my limbs     severed

         on altar america       insurance

        on a long shot

but mami was      brave

in my   middle name  she hid

a stolen hope -- a hope   that sisterhood

    could breech        conquest,

that there was a thing still    untouched 

   on body of      indigenous woman

that pixie cut onyx hair

       stout brown legs      small breasts

   was woman      enough   

that feather fingers  of an   adopted

    sister would   always reach  gently for her face  

that she'd always have  this friend  

   alongside her to scrub     white women’s houses

 to split the profits   to help carry humiliation   to the car

       that front seat Ford station wagon therapy  

    on a thousand nights she'd rather   stay

in that driveway than go     inside

            would heal    500 years

   but her dream glinted      caught the light

outshone her place   and the stars   envied

   they turned my   middle name  into vengeful

      lash meant for  my mother's   arrogant

back  landing on the    soles of my feet

now shame drips from lips that mouth

Lourdes     my mother's  daring

  turned naivety   as foolish and damning

as moctezuma’s   welcoming of     white gods

with steel      see my mother also welcomed

          a pale friend      shapely and slithering  

opened wide the gates    introduced her to my father

   made her a god         dedicated  her daughter

   both kingdoms fell

now my   name   pendulums

between the old world   and the new

      ghosts   and benedicts

every  syllable  howls regret

            breaks  towards shadows in a cave

so i amnesia   the price   cash in my bond

        i bury  Lourdes    tuck it in the folds of silk

    inside    my mother’s coffin

i spell   my name quiet      pretty

       and  harmless

the poet’s way

      unassuming    far from light

so it’ll never glint    never shine

never reveal that it holds still

a woman’s hope for her daughter