Monday, October 15, 2007

In my father's country

voices rise and fall like gentle waves
on this slender neck of sea,
a melody I’ve always known

like the features I see in faces
crinkled eyes smiling, noses proud,
echoing my aunties, my cousins, my own

But on the streets, the bootblacks,
schoolgirls in uniform, stubbly fishermen on the bridge
ask Nerelisiniz? Where are you from?

And in that moment
my tongue becomes a fish
flopping on the ground

rev. Oct. 23

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