2025/Vitalia-

I am from leather pews, guardian angels, and white lace veils,

from hushed churches, stained glass windows, and spanish prayers

yet then, I knew less of holy pages and more of my curly pigtails

I am from the Valley’s ruthless sun, and so I swear

the warmth of Madera will never leave my soul

and sweet summer sweat will forever cling to my skin

I am from uneven cobblestone, grey skies, and french trains

from grand white sculptures, curtains made of satin

all whilst ignoring growing pains

I am from rowdy groups, modest clothing, and pink air

from soy sauce, 7/11’s, and mochi

Wanting to keep my hands bare