Maria Liz 

With red Crayola on my worn, hand-me-down lunchbox,

I scribble out my name, "Maria,"

It carries the weight of our roots,

And in its place, I write 'Liz.'

Liz likes the girls in the movies.

the one who brings PB&J for lunch. Not empanadas. 

I choke down the peanut butter, trying not to grimace.

I stand out like a cactus among the wildflowers.

I hurry to the restroom and glance at my reflection,

Wishing Mom would let me straighten my curly hair. Wear it just like theirs.