Poetry Friday: “Comida”

November 5th, 2010

This week’s poem comes from a student in Magnolia High School’s Puente Project, a college preparation program started in California high schools over twenty years ago. Robin Turner, a teacher at Magnolia and author of Greater Expectations: Teaching Academic Literacy to Underrepresented Students, still uses this poem with his students to explore culture-based writing.

by Lorena Camarena

Mi Mami y Papi offer me comida
The hands that serve the food;
Brown worked hands, filled with amor
The creamy,
Mole is brought to me.
Its fun spicky chicken comforts me inside.
I eat…I talk.
This sweet,
Accepting mole,
Protects me.
Loves me.
Pizza is the food for the students.
The hands that serve this food:
Gloved, educated, “successful,” hands.
The cold pizza is put in front of me.
I take a piece, with puddles of orange
grease on each pepperoni.
And put it in my mouth.
I eat…I study.
The undercooked piece is hard to chew.
My jaw is tired from chewing, yet this
demanding, hard pizza continues to
dran energy out of me.
I swallow the piece
This greasy taste stays with me.
I miss my mole’s sweet taste,
My heart will always long for
My mole,
Mi familia.

Entry Filed under: Poetry Friday

2 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Amy Ludwig VanDerwater  |  November 8th, 2010 at 8:10 am

    Oh, wow. The contrast here. The sadness of success in a way. Thank you. I am printing this. A.

  • 2. laurasalas  |  November 8th, 2010 at 8:11 am

    What a beautiful comparison between the two foods and what they represent. Thanks for sharing!

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