I am from agriculture
and crisp autumn wind.
From bruised crab apples
and blue moon ice cream. `
I am from the utters of cows
and the milk they give.
I am from the chancla that my mom used to throw at me
and the cinturón my dad branded on me.
I am without a doubt from the words of self loathing,
but I am also from positive affirmations.
I am from the suburbs of late night trick or treating
and warm apple cider that was made with love.
I am from handmade tortillas
and queso fresco.
I am from my mom’s compassion
and my father’s mental decline.
I am from glochids
and tomatillo.
I’m from Waupun the land of the Ojibwe.
Hey Moses, felt that chancla line the most and could relate from childhood. Also loved how descriptive you were when talking about your environment and the many different aromas that encapsulated them, from sweet to more savory.
Hey Moses, I like your poem. I can picture how you grew up from the way you described the land, food and animals. I can also sense your culture by the use of food and language in your poem.