Breakfast
By Amanda Gomez
The couple next to me is finishing their breakfast.
Between a bite of grits and eggs, the woman asks:
how do they let in trash like that these days? staring
at the television screen, where clips of protestors
gathered at the Trump Tower flash across.
The news anchor covering the story chuckles
nervously, as an interviewee raises the topic of race.
She blushes as if it’s inappropriate. Maybe
I shouldn’t be talking about politics the lady beside me
continues. When her husband makes no response,
she turns towards me. I keep my mouth shut; put myself
in her place. I wonder what would make her America
great again. I think of my mother, my grandmother
and her sisters: where they were when they realized
they were uninvited guests. As for me,
I was in line for recess. A boy called me spic
in the third grade. I didn’t know what it meant.
If I did I would have called him caulkie* back.
Let him have it; ensure he never used that word
with me again. It’s moments like this still happening,
happening right now, which is why I refuse to respond
when she wants me to engage.
It’s simple: I want her to know
that what she’s searching for, she can’t have.
Amanda Gomez is an MFA candidate in poetry at Old Dominion University. Her work has been published by Eunoia Review, Ekphrastic Review, Manchester Review, Expound Magazine, San Pedro River Review, and Avalon Literary Review.
Viewing recommendation: Zoot Suit, starring Daniel Valdez and Edward James Olmos; written and directed by Luis Valdez, 1981.
*Caulkie refers to a person so white, they resemble caulk.