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Also while I was away I
missed my family a lot.

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I've been eating at home a lot.

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My mom cooks for me
now more than she ever

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did when I lived here.

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And this is a poem simply
titled "Poem Missing My Mother."

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"Weary, I bury my head
in my folded arms.

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Along my skin a smell sudden
and unmistakable tortilla

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de harina.

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The plancha-singed dough,
trail of moles marching,

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matching up each arm.

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My vision is a yellow kitchen
where I am made entire."

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