In my life of still dreaming the trailer park, I walk
through all of its streets. They are short streets, it is a short life.
It is nighttime, the moon shines through the yellow streetlights onto
dirt and cement and gravel and every pool of light and every shadow is
all my own. There is no sound in the whole park except the sound of my
voice, loud like a vandal, like a baseball bat, bouncing from
corrugated wall to corrugated wall, yelling back at me from empty
carports and half-open sheds, so confident, crazy and strong, I can't
be sure if it is my own or my Mama's, if it is my own or Grandma's
bones, full of both threat and promise, walking along the Calle and
waking it with these words, one word for each step: I am a heaven and
hell flower. I am a heaven and hell flower. I am
From Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
Winner: 2013 Alex Award.