May 6, 2011

Cisneros: The House on Mango Street

Posted in Uncategorized at 09:39 by Miracle

You can never have too much sky.
You can fall asleep and wake up drunk on sky,
and sky can keep you safe when you are sad.

.

Hips – One day they are there.
Ready and waiting like a new Buick
with the keys in the ignition.
Ready to take you where?

.

I want to be
like the waves on the sea,
like the clouds in the wind,
but I’m me.
One day I’ll jump
out of my skin
I’ll shake the sky
like a hundred violins.

.

The Three Sisters – They came with the wind
that blows in August, thin as a spider web
and barely noticed. Three who did not seem
to be related to anything but the moon.
One with laughter like tin and one with eyes
of a cat and one with hands like porcelain.

.

A House of My Own – Not a flat.
Not an apartment in back.
Not a man’s house. Not a daddy’s.
A house all my own. With my porch
and my pillow, my pretty purple petunias.
My books and my stories. My two shoes
waiting beside the bed. Nobody to shake a stick at.
Nobody’s garbage to pick up after.

Only a house as quiet as snow,
a space for myself to go, clean as paper before the poem.

.

Friends and neighbors will say,
What happened to that Esperanza?
Where did she go with all those books and paper?
Why did she march so far away?

They will not know that I have gone away to come back…

.

.

Reading Sandra Cisneros’ The House on Mango Street was an entirely new literary experience for me.  The alluring Latino flavor is there and yet her storytelling style has its own unique stamp on it. Every passage seems like a lovingly crafted shard of a stained-glass mosaic where every little tile is poetry, and when beheld altogether as a whole, it glistens in the light and exudes beautiful colors of every shade.  Her mosaics must sit on every book-lover’s shelf.

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