#elizabeth acevedo
National Book Award-winning and New York Times bestselling author Elizabeth Acevedo writes about heartbreaking loss, the struggle to forgive, and the power of family.
Camino Rios lives in the Dominican Republic with her aunt and cherishes each summer when her father comes to visit her from the United States. When she goes to the airport to meet him, the unthinkable happens.
Yahaira Rios, born and raised in New York City, is called away from class to hear the devastating news that her father has just died in a plane crash to the Dominican Republic.
In this novel in verse, with opposing voices, these teens find a way to live their lives, forgive their family’s secrets, as well as find a way to each other.
When I first saw the title of this book I thought “finally, someone who thinks like me!”
I am that cringe person who bursts into applause every-time a flight I am on lands safely on the tarmac, much to the the horror of my travel companion and anyone who happens to be in earshot. The title of this book, along with the brightly coloured covered may fool you into thinking that this is a joyful…
“Who would I be if you were not? What are my stories if not but a continuation of the threads you unspooled? What do I owe you if not everything? And yet, you remind me time and again I owe you nothing but this honest, brave, full self.”
-Elizabeth Acevedo, With the Fire on High
It’s wild to miss someone so much, and yet in order to care for them you have to constantly say goodbye.
Elizabeth Acevedo, With the Fire on High
Just finished listening to this book on Scribd. It was sooo good. Loved it. Made me have all the feels on and off.
Swimming might be the closest to flying
a human being can get. There is something
about your body displacing water
in order to propel through space that makes you feel
Godtouched.
-Clap When You Land, Elizabeth Acevedo
You Mean You Don’t Weep at the Nail Salon?
Elizabeth Acevedo
it’s the being alone, i think, the emails but not voices. dominicans be funny, the way we love to touch — every greeting a cheek kiss, a shoulder clap, a loud.
it gots to be my period, the bloating, the insurance commercial where the husband comes home after being deployed, the last of the gouda gone, the rejection letter, the acceptance letter, the empty inbox.
a dream, these days. to work at home is a privilege, i remind myself.
spend the whole fucking day flirting with screens. window, tv, computer, phone: eyes & eyes & eyes. the keys clicking, the ding of the microwave, the broadway soundtrack i share wine with in the evenings.
these are the answers, you feel me? & the impetus. the why. of when the manicurist holds my hand, making my nails a lilliputian abstract,
i close my fingers around hers, disrupting the polish, too tight i know then, too tight to hold a stranger, but she squeezes back & doesn’t let go & so finally i can.
==
(Published in 2018. I love when poems seem eerily prescient, or take on a whole new resonance.)
Today in:
2020: Let Me Begin Again, Philip Levine
2019:Hammond B3 Organ Cistern, Gabrielle Calvocoressi
2018:Siren Song, Margaret Atwood
2017:A Sunset, Ari Banias
2016:Coming, Philip Larkin
2015:The Taxi, Amy Lowell
2014:Winter Sunrise Outside a Café Near Butte, Montana, Joe Hutchison
2013:The Last Night in Mithymna, Linda Gregg
2012:America [Try saying wren], Joseph Lease
2011:Boston, Aaron Smith
2010:How Simile Works, Albert Goldbarth
2009:Crossing Over, William Meredith
2008:The World Wakes Up, Andrew Michael Roberts
2007:Hour, Christian Hawkey
2006:For the Anniversary of My Death, W.S. Merwin
2005:The Last Poem About the Snow Queen, Sandra M. Gilbert