Little Peanut At first, we called And called and Called Panchita, little Peanut, Chita, Preciosa Watching her fold with every name Licking her burns and goathead pricks Rattled by the world Until we named her after a flower Watched her sprout Unfurling towards the sun I asked myself If I was going to continue to lick my wounds Or acknowledge the wisdom Left trapped in between pain and past And ask to hear it on others lips Watch my own eyes light up The way hers had when we got it right
| Soph Zelizer 12
