you have my face and
you wear my smile
decades
and the pacific
stand in between u s
a thousand cranes
i pick up
one and unfold it
what do i hope to find
inside
and what am i afraid to
see
i exist
(in the margins)
im in every image
i capture life
(at my pen)
i am drawn to the people that
go on, an act of resistance in itself
and yet this story isn’t about
me
it hardly feels like it’s mine
(to tell)
how do i slot myself
in? identification is a concept
comprised of a million pieces
is it in
similar ways your eyes are turned like mine,
familiar words we may use or,
the fact we are derived from one mother and yet so,
so different?
oh, pray and tell me
across years and across sea
cast away in this desert
with no place to call home
(anymore)
you’re looking a lot like me these days.
