Melissa Andrés

 Poet

About

by bay 2.jpg
New College Campus/Ringling Museum

Melissa Andrés is a poet.

Originally from Cuba, 

she arrived in the

United States at the age 

of six. She holds an MFA

in Creative Writing from Sarah Lawrence College. 

Her work has appeared in 

The San Antonio Review,

Rattle Magazine,

The Laurel Review,

Inkwell Journal, and Ligeia Magazine, among other journals. Her Poem

"The Poisoned Horse"

has been nominated

for a Pushcart Prize. 

Her influences include:

Edna St. Vincent Millay 

Edgar Allan Poe

Virginia Woolf

William Blake

Agnes Varda

Salvador Dali

Elizabeth Bishop

Seamus Heaney

Lucille Clifton

T'ao Ch'ien

Claudia Emerson

Jose Marti

Flannery O'Connor

 
 

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

Thanks for submitting!

Follow me:

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Instagram
 

I'm a paragraph. Click here to add your own text and edit me. It's easy.

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

Thanks for submitting!

Follow me:  

  • Instagram
IMG_7128.JPG
IMG_6165.JPG