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by MJ Santiago The taco stand that used to be a Checkers used to be a fruit stand, which used to be just the land. In every version I find something worth consuming. Doña Marina sold out her country to Cortes, or Malintzin's own country sold her— Either way, La Malinche gave birth to something new. My father says his sister disappeared with some boy. His mother says the man disappeared with her. Either way, she was never seen again by anyone who knows me. My mom says it's all the same story told by different people. I say my parents named me Malinchista— So, I don’t know what I own. I know that I am loyal to whatever I can say is mine. Originally from central Florida, MJ Santiago currently lives and works in New York. Their work has appeared in Reservoir Lit, Heavy Feather Review, and Tinderbox Poetry Journal. Their debut chapbook, Baby Knife, is available from Tenderness Lit (2018).
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