La Suavecita

Happy Mother's Day to you and yours! Poet and writer Lupe Mendez wrote "La Suavecita" for his mother's 86th birthday. Of the poem, he says "I wanted to write about bright notions, on what is passed down between the generations, and in my house, it has always been el gusto de la musica"-- the love of music.

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La Suavecita

by Lupe Mendez

We dress my daughter in amarillo, not butter

or sunlight or mirasol, maybe an Easter yellow,

maybe a Dia de los muertos yellow, a baby chick

yellow, it doesn't matter. She flickers

around the house all bare-foot. She takes you

by the hand and makes you play

La Suavecita on repeat, her hair in brown

bouncy pig-tails. All day. She watches

your mouth, the way you say tambores,

the way you say cumbia. She won't stop smiling.

When she laughs I hear my mother. I am

back in her house, all bare-foot, dancing

to the same song.

My mother dresses in a teal bata, not Miami

or peacock or Tiffany Blue, maybe an Easter teal,

maybe a Dia de los muertos teal, a robin egg

teal, it doesn't matter. She flitters

around the house. She takes me

by the hand and teaches me how to spring

my arms, how to move my hips,

how to follow the beat already in my legs.

She tells me,

ay mijo, one day, las muchachas

will want to spend the night with you

on the dance floor. Find those feather feet.

Carry a smile and laugh, mijo laugh.

I ask to play the song again and run

to rewind the cassette tape. All day.

My mother is all baila, baila,

all brown curls of bobbing hair

abriendo sus brazos the moment

I learn how to spin her in

our shot-gun house. She won't stop smiling.

My mother loves the color yellow.

There is a sing, a flow around inside.

My daugher ooooos the color teal.

When they lay eyes on each other, they watch

each others' mouths, see just who smiles first.

I'm just here, waiting to see who wants to dance

-- si no la invito, me invita ella.