Melissa Andrés

 Poet

About

Melissa Andrés was born 

in Cuba and came to the United States with her family at the age of six.

She has a bachelor's degree

in International Studies

from the University of South Florida and an MFA

in Creative Writing from 

Sarah Lawrence College. 

Recent publications

include Rattle Magazine, 

the San Antonio Review,

the Laurel Review, and

Ligeia Magazine,

among others. 

Her influences include:

Edna St. Vincent Millay 

Edgar Allan Poe

Virginia Woolf

William Blake

Agnes Varda

Salvador Dali

Elizabeth Bishop

 
 

My Mother's Daybed

My mother stirred a kettle

of yucca and yams

over a low fire,

smoke rising from embers,

hints of cedar cloaking the air.

I sat on the porch and swung my legs.

My curiosity provoked

my mother's anger when I dangled

my hair over the ashes

to watch them burn.

My brother, his head stuck

between two branches,

was choking. My father,

glancing out the window,

saw him between strokes of his razor.

He saved my brother, carried

him over the mudflat

where we waited. Mounds of clay

cluttered the terrace.

A herd of cattle dotted the field.

My gaze landed 

on an ant

carrying a grain of sugar

across the boots

my father left behind.

That night, outside

on my mother's daybed, a firefly

crawled into my ear

and the image of my brother's head

hovered near the rail. 

          Published in the Laurel Review

          Vol 51.1

Links to poetry:

For any media inquiries or bookings, please contact Melissa Andrés:

Contact

Follow me:

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Instagram
 

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My Mother's Daybed

My mother stirred a kettle

of yucca and yams

over a low fire,

smoke rising from embers,

hints of cedar cloaking the air.

I sat on the porch and swung my legs.

My curiosity provoked

my mother's anger when I dangled

my hair over the ashes

to watch them burn.

My brother, his head stuck

between two branches,

was choking. My father,

glancing out the window,

saw him between strokes of his razor.

He saved my brother, carried

him over the mudflat

where we waited. Mounds of clay

cluttered the terrace.

A herd of cattle dotted the field.

My gaze landed 

on an ant

carrying a grain of sugar

across the boots

my father left behind.

That night, outside

on my mother's daybed, a firefly

crawled into my ear

and the image of my brother's head

hovered near the rail. 

          Published in the Laurel Review

          Vol 51.1

Links to poetry:

For any media inquiries or bookings, please contact Melissa Andrés:

Contact

Follow me:

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Instagram

© 2020 by Melissa Andrés