Poem by Viviana Mendoza
when i was younger,
my mother used to call me independent
so often
that i started believing it was my name.
and sometimes,
i stood in the bathroom mirror
thinking about what i would rename myself.
maybe mija,
mi amor,
mi mundo,
but i always settled on preciosa
after thinking about how lovely it would be
to lie in the grass,
my head making a home on my mother’s lap,
the sun kissing our skin,
her fingers combing my hair
because she never got to
when i was tiny.
i think about looking up at her
as my cheek sleeps in her palm,
how beautiful that song would sound:
when she calls me
preciosa.
Viviana Mendoza is a high-school English teacher & a person who writes poetry. She's been published in Motif, The Sagebrush Review, and The Acentos Review. Her words always find their way to paper right before bed... when she should most definitely be asleep.
Image by Dakota Roos