Written in Fall 2014 for Class - EN304: Writing of Poetry (Boston University)
For my mother, the typhoon

Mothers are meant to be typhoons,
tornadoes, crashing waves,
mighty forces of nature.

Mothers give advice like
in love and in war
make yourself small
so men can feel large.

My mother reads
tabloid magazines and asks
what I think of some celebrity’s hair
and how awful her dress looked.

My mother will tell me
how large I’ve grown - horizontally,
and to not let any boy kiss me
that can’t cook or at least buy me dinner.

Mothers believe their crying daughters
and ask who hurt you
so much that you blamed yourself instead?

My mother doesn’t believe in depression
and blamed my steady sadness on herself.

My mother works twelve hours nights
to send me to school
with the best hair and best dresses, she says.

My mother works at the hospital
where lola died
and cried without shame as if to say
after all that rain,
even typhoons subside.