First, for my grandma. Then, everyone I think about often in this experience called immigration. A poem to be performed for my grandma. Grandma, I am still looking From above, I see greenlush somewhere Soon beneath me, the sea Atop, the blue-black midnight sky Below is blue pain, water the depth of this immeasurable distance Someone asks, "sweetheart, what do you want to eat?" My stomach turns, flight food I am churning memories I have ingested but time, time swallows I can't necessarily recollect and condense, like cumulus clouds, our togetherness Scattered perceptions of watching you sell tomatoes to someone. A thief. Church. A running crab. A mango tree; the sweet taboo of too ripe brown mangoes Lizards. Listening to uncle listen to Marley and Dube. Sharing one bed. I long for the comfort of being cramped in one room with everyone I know Empty space is loneliness, I despise a room of my own If I had ever known sleep, it was only my rest underneath
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