Ernesto Likes to Call Me Mami
Ernesto Likes to Call Me Mami
Jan Becker
Ernesto likes to call me Mami.
“Mami,” he says,
“you got to face facts. You are a big beautiful
Earthmothergoddesswoman. Man,
you gotta love that, Mami
cause it’s the truth.”
I got curves,
that’s for sure.
A big round belly like the Venus
of Willendorf,
legs that have stood on the top of Gibraltar,
feet that walked through the
Atlas Mountains of Africa
and shoulders that shrugged.
My arms
have held down dying bodies,
crackwhores begging for medication,
pregnant women in seizures
borderline IQ children who probably weren’t
retarded, but
came from South Philadelphia.
My fingers dig holes in the garden for
wormwood and thyme,
pennyroyal, rosemary, basil and sage.
Fingers sift dirt like flour
chop garlic
grasp tissues, dry tears.
When I was a small girl,
I knew I would grow big tetas
because I need a chest this big to carry the pain.
Me, Earthmothergoddesswoman
a big mami with curves:
Yeah,
I gotta love it.