Impostors don’t survive here. Dearborn is
A cutthroat town. You make it or you die.
Art or nothing. Truth or don’t survive.
The ones who cannot take the Evil Eye
Will quit, or self-destruct, or Stare Her Down
Until they rise and rule the world again.
Where are my Sisters? I remember you
From festivals and mosques and banquet halls.
I see you in the yards, and on the beach,
And in the corners of the night, and where
Your mothers left you last. Where are you now?
What happened here? Just one more time. That’s all
We want: To play just one more time again.
Mom and Dad were right. They always are.
They speak Chinese–Confucian–oftentimes.
Behaviorists, we call them, when they Say,
“Obey Us, and the world will bow to you.”
They heard it from the grape leaves on the vine,
From hills and stone and sand and olive trees.
They brought it here with them. I found it in
The attic once, behind the old cassettes.
Tell me where we are. I’d like to know.
Sometimes forgetting only makes it worse.
Back to Poetry.