Twelve years since the kidnap and murder that shook the country: the second trial begins
by Rachel Shpuntoff
Candela, we talked about you at recess. throats too dry
to dare say, to dare think it could happen to us.
i remember the day they found you. did they show us
the body on the screen or did i imagine your bruises
blooming like lichen. violets on your skin, darker than mine.
your hair still in the braids your mother sat you between
her knees for. i remember her face, and your father’s
on TV screens through people’s windows on the walk
back from school. my mother wouldn’t let me see you
in our home and truth is i did not dare ask. but i wanted
to know so hard what it felt like. to know if i would last
a day or two longer and be found with air in my lungs,
not raped and beaten and stuffed into a trash bag.
Candela, te quiero más que las violetas. Y quiero saber.