HER ROOTS

I took mental notes
by ear, by blaring music,
the smell of Spanish in
the air. My days were young
as I am a son of someone
who didn't know me.

My mother sang
to latin bands as she
danced in the kitchen.
She minced her words
with English verbs,
while she cooked in the
kitchen.

She'd mix her roots
and made her stews
like the ancestors before me.
Whose lives were true
before I knew what ancestry
bore me.