Letisia Cruz


Letisia Cruz is a Cuban-American writer and artist. She is a graduate of Fairleigh Dickinson University’s MFA program and currently lives in Miami, Florida. She serves as Resident Artist at Petite Hound Press and Online Poetry Re-Features Editor at The Literary Review. Her writing and artwork have recently appeared in Gulf Stream, Moko Caribbean Arts and Letters, Ink Brick, and the Writing Disorder, and her chapbook Chonga Nation was selected as a finalist in the 2016 Gazing Grain Press Poetry Chapbook Contest. Find more of her work atwww.lesinfin.com.

Animal Sacrifice

Over streaks of red and the edge
of one bird, divided and drained
pure.  Inside—the crude tone
that mocks. How the practice
is even cleaner than the end.
The disjointed legs, limp neck,
and a storm brews, too. Scent

of dead animal in the grass.
This is ritual. We break
a little every day.




What made me run was his baby.
The way he said it:
Baby, wake up.
Yet time after time, I said good morning,
when in truth it was already night.
In the darkness of the room where he held me,
where he let go only to take another hit,
I knew I’d be the one
to break us. In dreams,

I’d watched the sun's arms
rise like tentacles across the horizon.
So that when he said,
Baby, wake up,
I was already burning.
I opened my eyes and ran.
Past the gate I heard him say it:
Baby, come back.
But my name had already changed.