C-L-S

five years spent practicing, learning, building community around myself, so beautiful

here on the mats, ponytail swinging, laughter,

saturdays from nine to ten-thirty, then eight to ten-thirty,

My mother wasn’t born this strong.

No, her strength comes from years of labor.

Labor of the body, 

Labor of the mind.

My mother’s shoulders are strong;

Maybe we're the ones 

who grew up on our iPads then 

our phones, 

the ones who teach our teachers 

how to use their screens,  

the ones 

Searing, frying, sautéing,
wiping sweat off my forehead,
crying because of onions
the things I do for a boy.
I hope he likes it.
The doorbell rings.
The door opens, he stands with a bouquet in his hands.

I stand alone as the clouds turn gray. 

I watch as the rain starts to fall. 

I hear a roar of thunder in the distance. 

I see a bolt of lightning a few miles away.