Sunday, March 1, 2009

Mamita


Mamita
Because
She is not old
Therefore
Grandmother
Is uncalled for

Mamita
Shuffles her feet
All around
Her green house
Coughing
Her hacking cough
Swatting flies
Sweeping
Floors
A little angry
A little happy
Always both

Matriarch
And
When she calls
They come
One by one
Her children
And their
Children
I am
One of them

Arms
Wrapped
Around her
Tiny
Fragile
Body.

So much woman.
She must
Be dynamite.

My mothers
Mother
And therefore
The final word

Never
Grandma
But Mamita

The womb
We all
Crawled out of
The same one
Who keeps calling

Come back
Come back


To your motherland

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