Fall 2008, Volume 5

Poetry by Elena Minor


She thought that if she prayed in threes
it would help her petition,
move along her salvation,

open up new routes to heaven.
There is death and there is dying,
she thought to herself

in the confessional while she waited
her turn.
Father Castell was Italian five times

removed from the true blood but he
gave good confession
and better communion.

He knew how to choose wine,
also made real good times and
died quickly in his sleep

From too much contrition, someone said.
She didn't go to the funeral:
she hardly knew him and he her.

She was on her knees at the altar,
hands a wet grip
loving the feel of an empty church.


So I had a million places
to go, so I hadda
go hard add 'em white points
in night noche más pero más
oscura allá there[in] I would


and let it dark-like fly…

Día has too much
too many more
color s[p]lices and it dices my
eyes like food for flesh
too ripped
to see through when
they spinwheel and [s]park to
[s]peak ¡out!

                     about this…this


d i a s p o r i c


and it's time again & again
to curve

BIO:  Elena Minor's poetry and fiction have been published in OCHO, Diner, City Works, Writers At Work, Magnapoets, Passager, Poetry Midwest, 26, Segue, Prism Review, BorderSenses, The Big Ugly Review, Quercus Review and Facets, among others. She is the founding editor of PALABRA A Magazine of Chicano & Latino Literary Art and a past first prize recipient of the Chicano/Latino Literary Prize.