April 13 : Elegy of Expatriation

In a land with no ties
afloat in a hostile culture
the line tugs and I see I am moored,
covered with inspection stickers,
stinking of their food.
But the words are no longer foreign.
I reach for his body,
a piece of the alien that loves me.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s