Mi Casa

When I was a boy

I was either a child eating bugs

or a child being eaten by bugs, but

now that I am older am I a man

who devours the world or am I a man

being devoured by the world?

Someone once told me that mothers

come from a different planet. And if she was correct

then my mother was a warrior from that planet.

And now that my mother is older the history

that is her face is starting to look like a worn map.

The hills that once were her cheeks now have roads

carved into them that tell her secrets.

The roots of her hair are starting to shimmer with silver

that she colors once she sees ten or more.

She no longer cares for long hair.

She says pelo largo is a young woman’s game.

In a few years she will be older than my grandmother

ever was.