Customs

Customs

Ma’am, does your luggage contain any agricultural plant or animal species?

Do my roots count?

My home is a diaspora
No longer “the” diaspora
Because each place is foreign to the other.
(and I am foreign to myself)

I have integrated thoroughly enough into this new territory
That it’s time to confuse myself once more
Let’s dig up those roots again
again
again.
Home is found in the digging process.
Home is somewhere mid-air by an oval window with some ginger ale and no leg room.

/michal

Poetry Reading of “Telling Tales”

Telling Tales

I am unsure how much you are willing to know.
How will you know me? (what will I say)
Will you be willing? (what will you hear)

What can I teach? (too much too much too fast)

I am filled with pain and stories and moments that demand to be shared
with you? (who else)
Do you want them? (do they soften)
I continue to breathe next to you, unsure how to tell you that I have a lot to tell you

/michal