Carrizosa: “Dad’s Inferno” and “Enchiladas”


Both of these poems are from Desiree Carrizosa, a Courier staff writer. If you’re interested joining the Courier, contact editor Keylin Perez via email ( for more information.

Dad’s Inferno

Dad’s shouts bounced off the walls, we
hid under our beds because a real
monster roamed our home. His cool
shoes and nice eyes masked his rage. We
covered our ears and shut our eyes. He left
a splatter of red from mom’s lip on my school
picture that hung on the living room wall. We

flinched from his metal fisted punch to the wall. His lurk-
ing eyes scanned the room. Our brother came home late

and saw the splatter of red. His running footsteps, we
heard his running footsteps and his strike
to dad’s face. Mom’s scream made us run straight, straight
to where the screams were. Dad’s eyes were frozen. We

saw our brother pushed into the hot stove spilling every sing-
le hot bean on the floor. He screamed and shouted sin-
ful words to our creator. Dad made another splatter of red. We

rushed to shield our brother from his rage. He felt hurt and thin.
Dad pushed us off our brother and yelled, his breath smelled of gin.
Our cries meant nothing because according to him, we
were just girls, not his daughters. Mom took the radio playing jazz
and threw it across the room. She demanded he leave by the end of June
or next time she wouldn’t miss. We

haven’t heard from him in years, sometimes we think he die-
d, but Hell knows it would be too soon.


The hands of our grandparents make flavors, flavors
to help us remember the land of our ancestors, the
land of aguacates forever. De papa estilo Michoacana sit
on the clayed plate surrounded by salsa, smells spicy. Homemade
salsa and tortillas from the hands of our grandparents make the estilo
enchilada come to life. Red salsa, lechuga, con queso fresco, on top of the
tortillaed dish with aguacate on the side. Crema drizzled side to side, up and down
to complete the dish. Fingers pick at the tortillas to taste, taste flavors de Michoacan in every
bite. Homemade salsa and tortillas from the hands of our grandparents make the estilo enchilada
come to life.