De donde eres?
POW building tract houses, never affordable with his six kids.
Hiding candy like grenades, a diabetic is in denial of insulin shots.
Children eating dry ramen, meth worth more than even food.
Mercury Records, the back of a car, providing poured sugar.
The North and South: the tomato-throwers and welfare moms.
And the West: flowers in your hair with waves being surfed.
Yo soy de mi madre y mi madres amor.
Yo soy de mi padre y esta enojado.
I’m an average girl in bell-bottomed jeans, seeing god in every drop of rain.
No power, no plumbing, no food, but plenty of love.
Mother’s gentle hands soothing the wounded, from toylands and chores.
Neglectful Father, Air Force 9th Medical Unit took his soul.
Boxes of secret knowledge: bandaged, broken home with infected stitches
Documented in black and white as well as color.
False poses gave way to broken wings and Prozac dreams.
De donde eres?
Yo soy de tu y tu eres de yo.
YOU ARE READING
Where I Am From
PoetryThe piece was born of a class assignment, and then it took it's own path to its current incarnation. Fair warning, there is a little Spanish in the poem.
