Papier-mâché

Oh, how they laughed
when the rr tripped and rolled
off my tongue,
too far past my teeth,
impaling the piñata,
bursting
through the nostrils
of My Little Pony.

All was gone
before I could lift
the blindfold.
I scavenged the grass,
found only scraps
of an accent,
fingernails dirty
from digging
for answers
or ancestors.

I had hopes
to understand
the shame
of being
misunderstood.
With a butterfly painted
on my cheek,
I took a hit
to the cocoon.

I spit my insides out
one
word
at
a
time—
coughing up
an undeveloped language.

One day,
my children
will strike
a piñata
filled to the brim
with all things
unspoken.

Priscilla Calderon is a USC senior from South Central Los Angeles, graduating in Spring 2025 with a B.A. in Psychology and English (Creative Writing). Passionate about creating songs, poetry, and art, she reflects on mental health, perseverance, and identity, writing daily about her experiences while living in today’s world.