Born between pupusas and sourdough.
San Francisco gave me hills instead of volcanoes,
Twin peaks instead of El Boquerón.
I tried to bomb a hill on a skateboard, fell, elbow gashed,
and realized this is not for me.
Years later I learned how to bomb empty warehouses in the city
with aerosol cans. “I wrote graffiti on the bus.”
Learned an accent that bends
a tongue between “cipote” and “hella.”
Learned to write poems in Spanglish,
at Buena Vista Alternative Elementary School.
Learned to read, write, and speak in Spanish.
Learned English at home from my older sister, who was a poet in the making.
Mama’s stories were oral histories
not just bedtime stories,
but more like war time stories.
I give thanks there was bedtime stories for me.
But for my parents:
Wartime said no bedtime
Wartime said wake up and throw yourself to the ground when the rifle blasts
Wartime said wake up when you hear a grenade explode nearby.
No, that is not the sound of thunder,
that is the sound of war.
No dreams of life when death comes knocking.
I write because silence is a second exile.
Because memory doesn’t die when history is censored.
When history is so tragic it’s best not tell it.
Because my father’s and mother’s history
deserve more than a footnote.
Poem is a presence enunciating we are not dead in the archive.
Roque Dalton knew, so he kept writing.
I carry secondhand memories of war in one hand
and armed with a pencil sharp as shrapnel in the other
with the reach of a Rust-Oleum can ready to bloom across concrete walls.
In this city, I am not half of anything.
Maybe a transplant surviving root shock or the son of survival.
Writing myself home.
Mauricio E. Ramírez is a Salvadoran American artist and scholar. His creative writing explores identity, memory and diaspora within the Salvadoran American experience. His work was a Top-10 Finalist in Narrative Magazine’s Fall 2025 Story Contest, and his historical fiction has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize by About Place Journal. His work has been published or is forthcoming in About Place Journal, Azahares Literary Magazine, Behemoth Magazine and Public Books. Find his work at mauricioeramirez.com
ELEVENTH HOUR LITERARY 