Sunlight enters my room.
My quilt hides the gloom.
Unwelcome winter shine,
my home isn’t your shrine.
Sick light comes through.
I hear the song—the Hudson Blues.

Bones surrender to the streets.
A sharp pain stabs my hips, my knees.
Bones, nurtured by the Equator’s sun,
quiver at the muzzle of the North’s gun.
My toes recoil, my fears come true.
It calls—the Hudson Blues.

The scarf strangles my neck,
and the coat becomes my flesh.
The Christmas lights don’t provide warmth,
and the red-nosed reindeer lose their charm.
Nose turns red, tears flow too.
I walk to you, dear Hudson Blues.

When the winter sun goes down at four,
when the wool hat flattens my curls,
when there’s no light, and my body sinks,
not even the villancicos I’ll dare to sing.
From the bridge’s edge, your water looks cruel.
Your cold embrace, dear Hudson Blues.

R. Cardenas Colmenares (she/her) is a Brooklyn-based writer and poet who loves horror and speculative fiction. Her short fiction and essays have been published in The Guild and Acentos Latinos, and her poetry appears in BigCityLit and Poetry in Performance. Originally from Venezuela, her work often features Spanish words and references to her culture.

Instagram: @writtenbyroxi