The Woman that Remained by Amy Roblero Perez



go back to your country

from the adjacent car 
in the backseat 
white teeth teens

you and I 
the first time we listened to the love ballads in your tongue 

you rolled the windows up
this was the first time I realized you possessed shame 
I was young

still
you remained

the second 
when you apologized for being my mother 

a stack of mail on the table
a bittersweet stare 

you laughed 

perdon por no tener escuela  

I was older
your words  
gifted me an ache 

grown in all the shades of your burns 
grow in the miles between you and abuela 
grow in your late night little girl cries
 
still you 
remained

on the news, they talk about kids like me 

anchor babies 

you remained 

but Mamá, 
my love doesn’t demand your home stay a secret 
my love demands no knowledge of the english language 
my love doesn’t demand citizenship 

You said I wasn’t a tool but a dream 
Work weekends and holidays
bone breaking factories 
homes and hotels 
fields and flowers 

swearing love on a journey worse than death 
taking the food out of your mouth 
to afford every trend and field trip 

Mamá, 
in my country,
you have always been enough 

like a weed
without water or sun 
you remain

speak english, this is America!

trampled and beat 

still 
you remain 

mamá, América no tiene solo una lengua

as the aftertaste of
flour 
limón 
tomate 
pollo
afternoon 
empanadas 
mija, ven a comer!

as tales 
as song 
as a relic 

scars you obtained from your pueblo  

born much too early to fall in love in space 
Unfortunate enough to have been born a daughter 
longing for classrooms 
longing to be free of brutality 
to wish upon stars

a starving childhood 

you left it behind that day
rays of sun spilling 
surrendering finest blushes and paints to sand 
picking thorns from skin 

at the outskirts of freedom at only 18

knuckles colliding with bone 
the barrel of a gun 
sacrificing best friend over a brother 

still 
you remained

no land could ever be enough 

so let me be your promised 

because what is this dream
if not a body or a culture that would not stay in the ground 
if not a body or immigrant tongue 

even if I cannibalize the word America 

I’ll tear apart each
letter
ring
and bone 

until we have it
life 
liberty 
pursuit of happiness 

place your bets on me 
I will be the ocean you long to sink in 
I’ll take you 

Paris
           London
                           Greece

your new york city you so long to see

I will wrap you in waves of water instead of sand 

I will water you 

allow my heart to be your sun
I will surrender myself to be your

home 

tu hija
not an anchor

so I beg you

remain here
with me.


Amy Roblero Perez is a freshman at Swarthmore College in Pennsylvania. She plans to major in English and possibly linguistics 
of psychology as well. She is a 2022 Kentucky Governor’s School for 
the Arts alumnus and the 2023 Kentucky Youth Poet Laureate. 



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