the cooking oil leaped onto my hands
vacationing on my brown skin
sizzling tanning
relaxed in mockery to
my suffering
lounging amongst the
palm trees that are my veins
a kiss like a sting
so sharp i almost dropped
the spatula
so fast
–los platanos!
leaped in the air like acrobats almost flying
in a failed attempt to escape the stove’s heat
resenting my now
burnt knuckles
for diving them down
to their demise in my skillet
as much as the oil
smoldered on my knuckles
with indignation
I couldn’t help but smile
maybe it makes me a masochist
but I’ve never felt closer
to my mother
skinning her finger
peeling mangoes
chopping the vegetables
orchestrating dinner
nurturing
nourishing
even at the extent of our pain
it seems that
sacrifice
is all mujeres like us
know how to do.
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