you remind me of a dark place-
my mother’s village
far away,
first day of third grade
blonde girl cried through eyes
the color of my country’s basins.
she wasn’t new to this world,
she wasn’t lonely and confused,
tripping through a concrete forest of
false idols and plastic shadows,
just missed her brothers.

a pitiful excuse for survival.

and i
(olive skinned, hair on my legs,
stubborn, reckless,
fire chugging aries,
everything a jagged rock to scale,
all the bodies must be sniffed
before i release my eyebrows)
always hear your muffled whisper,

coating the air like dew
the intimidated glances
hit me blunt in the face.

but holding my tongue is not an option.
your baffled countenances nothing but
fans tickling flames.

you people are connected like iron on a magnet
and god forbid one of you steps out of the line
one of you speaks your sick mind
one of you opts not to shock the man behind the wall
and devours the corpses instead.

i want to cry, i want to throw things at your face,
i’d want to show you my tribe is better than yours,
if i had a tribe to speak for.
i want to walk into a portal and never see
any of you again.

you think your smile conceals your malice
your innocent voice a curtain at intermission,
but the aliens see everything and
when they arrive, they will only take me
back with them.