Poem for mom, #17 of infinity
A Spanish stranger called me beautiful and you looked her right in the eye and said “I know”
like it was a secret, one I’d never be in on.
I carry you(r)
Sacrifice was our love language from the beginning.
You raised me to feel,
make a library of life in my coat pockets,
and let goosebumps
In 103 degree heat you told me
“you’re going to be hot, you’re wearing the color of the sun” and I
drew a portrait of your slow laugh in my mind.
What will I do to protect your magic?