Poetry by Claudia Cardona

What It’s Like (Being a Brown Girl)

I.

A bruised peach in the back of a fridge.
An invitation to a seat at the table
that’s taken by someone else.
Words too hard to pull out of your throat.
A burnt tongue from gas station coffee.
A book with its rainwater soaked pages.
Beer bottle glass swept away at a bar.
Spitting out Corpus Christi seawater.
The name on a tombstone
covered in crunchy leaves.

 

II.

A name dipped in gold.
A silent field of sun stained grass
where you wait for the moon to shine.
The clink of glass against glass,
celebrating the life you’ve been given.
Putting your ear to your lover’s
chest for the first time.
Counting your futures
on each leaf of the front lawn peach tree.
The sound of your mother’s
laugh dancing from the living room.

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