At a curfew-darkened ciudad trujillo,
speaking in worried whispers to your brothers,
which car to take, who'd be willing to drive it,
what explanation to give should we be discovered . .

on the way to the beach, you added, eyeing me.
the uncles fell in, chuckling phony chuckles,
what a good time she'll have learning to swim!
back in my sisters' room mami was packing

a hurried bag, allowing one toy apiece,
her red eyes belying her explanation:
a week at the beach so papi can get some rest.
she dressed us in our best dresses, party shoes.

something was off, i knew, but i was young
and didn't think adult things could go wrong.
so as we quietly filed out of the house
we wouldn't see again for another decade,

the foreshadowing in the excerpt above makes the poem's tone

excited
tense
reflective
angry
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