Dulce-Marie FlechaFuck Cancer.If I opened my window and screamed “FUCK CANCER” into the Bronx skyline, someone would probably scream it back. An echo of grief.May 2, 2021May 2, 2021
Dulce-Marie Flecha“Write About Why You Write”I don’t write the way I breathe. I write the way I look at the night sky in Yasica.Aug 2, 2020Aug 2, 2020
Dulce-Marie FlechaChoosing Your Fit on the First Day of Class“You can’t dress like that here,” she decreed to the Black and brown sophomores she held court over. On being too much for your PWI.Jul 22, 2020Jul 22, 2020
Dulce-Marie FlechaA Love Letter to FoodI feel it in my throat. Not my stomach, like I would think if it weren’t happening to me. It’s a pile of gravel in my throat. It’s all the…Jul 4, 2020Jul 4, 2020
Dulce-Marie FlechaReconsidering Interrupted Formal EducationLet’s all agree to consider how a child may have their formal educational experiences interrupted while they are sitting in our classoroms.Mar 26, 2020Mar 26, 2020
Dulce-Marie FlechaTres Golpes: The Breakfast I’d Punch Someone in the Throat For.And that only goes to show that only God knows. I took pictures with Beyonce, I met Mama Knowles. I’m the rose that came from the concrete…Feb 17, 2020Feb 17, 2020
Dulce-Marie FlechaThe Last Tocaya de la Familia Rosario.3:26 A.M. That’s the only time the Bronx was quiet, block empty, no cars bumping Reggaeton or middle-aged men trudging to the early morning…Jan 12, 2020Jan 12, 2020
Dulce-Marie Flechacíon, abuela.Before her hands began to shake abuela wrote poems for the New York Yankees. When they came up to bat she’d open one of her little black…Jan 6, 2020Jan 6, 2020