my mother reminds me
that
when the ancestors watched me kiss him
they covered their almond eyes in disgust
with weathered brown fingers.
i truly believe
if they were all like my ammachy
that
when they watched me kiss him
they threw rose petals and made chai to celebrate love
with weathered brown fingers.
YOU ARE READING
homeland burning
Poetryhear your homeland calling as it burns to ash. 2017, wiildflowerhoney.
