we take the blue line down
to smithsonian, where all those statues
are. you know how i arrived here,
so instead i tell you a different origin story.
once, a guy from a rather obnoxious musical
struck up a deal with two other white men
and that’s how washington, dc, came to be.
all of our cities are inventions. the “national mall”
is a metaphor for theft. call it euphemism.
call it revisionist. we are standing in the
belly of the beast that sent for me.
say anacostan. say piscataway.
recite the lineage of this land.
then say imperialism. say colonization.
say what brought me here.
and i, settler immigrant, want you
to pay attention to the places you will
find the names of our people. manila
is part of the world war two memorial,
not in memory of our kababayan who died
but for the american soldiers who were stationed there.
they have taken from us, too. made our homes
unlivable to the point where i had to leave your side.
let’s be clear:
i am a visitor on a land not my own.
they have stolen more
than we could ever loot.
did you know the adults speak in codes here?
they say “land acknowledgment” instead of
“land back.” they paint murals on the streets
without doing a damn thing.