Mother

He said he likes My hair, but
the infamous afternoon marine cold
had had its way
tightened and tossed, and larger than life
I forgot
my curls were burgundy-brown
the color of the sweatshirt I couldn’t afford

His voice was so gentle
so genuine
his softness made me unafraid to turn around

I heard his smile before I saw it
capped with gold

I like it, he said again
his gaze holding mine

be still, my heart.

His accent unmistakable
like his platinum crown and
brown skin

his words
warmth
seeing, loving
embracing
me
right there
on that corner in the cold

this beautiful stranger
leaving the bar
Like a mother who
gently caresses
her child’s hair
in a sweet embrace, for a split second, I
was in his arms,
warm
and loved

Thank you, Mother.

Laugh. It’s Supposed to be Funny

What is normal
but a joke

What am I, then
but the punchline

Laugh.
It’s supposed to be funny

The Sun is Always Shining

Look out

ahead

It’s a mountain you have to climb.

Just kidding.

It’s a mole hill.

Blow a kiss

Clouds goodbye

What is left? sunshine

Winter’s threat, cold and harsh

A flirtatious

shove

to the rain and wet

What is left? sunshine

Wind biting at your buttons, pounding at your door

causing such a fuss

Raise your chancla, and whisper that’s

خَلَاص

khalas

What is left? Sunshine

You need the cold, the wind, the wet

But don’t let it fool you

The sun is always close, even when it’s set

That mountain, in the light of day

just a mole hill

a story, in your pocket kept.

Sunburnt in SoCal

Ra

I hate winter so much

that

I numbered her days

This, you shall not pass

For it is sun

Shining in my skin

A scorching summer’s day, my skin craves

My melanin languishes

Faded by winter’s cloudy days

My body aches for the sacrifice

of salt and water,

gathered at the temple

we gather here today

to burn

to worship

to live

What am i?

Water

sixty percent of me is

a trillion tiny magnets, positives and negatives

bound to each other

attracted to yours

repelled

rebelled

my heart takes my mind

captive

They say, “This is a mutiny on your time.”

I resist

with words

my eyes search for answers and meaning

between the pages

and I run

I literally run

and run

and run

But my body is prisoner

to a trillion tiny magnets

pulling me, pushing me

even in your absence

seeking for something, someone

cohesion, coherence

sixty percent of me

is prisoner

to you

You

I hold you in my arms

because

I know

time and distance will carry you away

from me.

I wrap my arms around you, but

I cannot take hold

the minutes, the seconds, the days, the hours

you are firmly within my embrace

but my useless grip

between, time slips

because I know

time will

unwind my arms

undo my embrace

make me, my memory

fade

from you.

but don’t worry

we’ll stay

here

in my love

there is no time or grip

just us