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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



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

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