Turning 30
Little Myra, you're no longer in the picture
but your words live on in others
like pain reincarnation
revisiting.
She says "you're 30," like I've forgotten
my age and in the midst of my playfulness
talks about being a grown-up.
Can you see, little Myra, how I still hurt?
Hackles raised, I change the subject
because I can't deal with her words
and when the phone's turned off
I rattle on to myself
about multiple college degrees,
12 years of full time work,
paying for kiddie karate classes,
mom's vacations, papi's new TV,
Angel's iPod, as if each item checks
a mark and there I am again
17, after Mami's life changing surgery-
Little Myra, with her words
by now forgotten by her since unlike you
she didn't mean them
and yet she accomplished what you didn't then
because inside I am again
turning 17, and my Mami is hurt
and I don't know what to do.
© Yazcaminante, 2011
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