intro
when you think of yolanda saldívar, you picture a bitter old bitch stuck in her little carcacha, tears gobsmacked to her cheeks, holding a pistol to her temple, howling, i didn’t mean to hurt her. my heart is a weapon that acts alone. maybe you hear the sirens around her. see the police officers standing beside their cars, pistols whipped out & ready to shoot. you’ll probably focus on blood & bullet holes, a body on the floor, selena quintanilla leaking—first onto the pavement. her insides, oceandeep. collected by forensic teams & then later scrubbed away by a hotel maid, who may be humming one of selena’s tunes: cause i’m dreaming, of you tonight.
when you think of yolanda saldívar, you picture a bitter old bitch stuck in her little carcacha, tears gobsmacked to her cheeks, holding a pistol to her temple, howling, i didn’t mean to hurt her. my heart is a weapon that acts alone. maybe you hear the sirens around her. see the police officers standing beside their cars, pistols whipped out & ready to shoot. you’ll probably focus on blood & bullet holes, a body on the floor, selena quintanilla leaking—first onto the pavement. her insides, oceandeep. collected by forensic teams & then later scrubbed away by a hotel maid, who may be humming one of selena’s tunes: cause i’m dreaming, of you tonight.
body
you’ll see the ambulance: the medics administering oxygen into selena’s mouth, placing white bandages onto her abdomen, q-tipping her wounds. you won’t detail the surgery or count all of the wormholes the doctors make into selena’s body because you’ll picture selena’s mother, eyes puffy, fists clenched around crumpled tissues, screaming at nurses, please, please let my baby stay. you’ll only have a flash of her father, see how he’s splitting his lip open with his teeth. your thoughts will whisk away by the heart monitor going flat in the operating room, loud. startling. perhaps even louder than the bullets yolanda shot into selena, because a heart beat lost is louder than anything.
you’ll see the ambulance: the medics administering oxygen into selena’s mouth, placing white bandages onto her abdomen, q-tipping her wounds. you won’t detail the surgery or count all of the wormholes the doctors make into selena’s body because you’ll picture selena’s mother, eyes puffy, fists clenched around crumpled tissues, screaming at nurses, please, please let my baby stay. you’ll only have a flash of her father, see how he’s splitting his lip open with his teeth. your thoughts will whisk away by the heart monitor going flat in the operating room, loud. startling. perhaps even louder than the bullets yolanda shot into selena, because a heart beat lost is louder than anything.
conclusion
you want yolanda to rot. to stay in jail. maybe you even hope she kills herself. it’s what she deserves, you say. how else can you hang up your teardrops to dry if she’s still alive? & i’ll tell you this: people are hurricanes, like my tia ninfa, who i used to mistake for yolanda growing up because they share the same face. a woman who pushed my mother down a flight of stairs during a fight, a woman my siblings ran from, a woman who once gently caressed foam out of my eyes in the bath, & said. mijo, it’s okay to be soft. not like other boys. you just have to remember: you have a sun inside you. hold your hand to your chest to feel its warmth. don’t ever let someone steal it. promise me.
you want yolanda to rot. to stay in jail. maybe you even hope she kills herself. it’s what she deserves, you say. how else can you hang up your teardrops to dry if she’s still alive? & i’ll tell you this: people are hurricanes, like my tia ninfa, who i used to mistake for yolanda growing up because they share the same face. a woman who pushed my mother down a flight of stairs during a fight, a woman my siblings ran from, a woman who once gently caressed foam out of my eyes in the bath, & said. mijo, it’s okay to be soft. not like other boys. you just have to remember: you have a sun inside you. hold your hand to your chest to feel its warmth. don’t ever let someone steal it. promise me.
