I am from

the expressions of my people

flattened nose and slits for eyes

leathery skin and cricks in my back

each feature of mine

a reflection of my family heritage

Somehow, I pull the words out of my mouth like the colorful scarves inside the sleeve of an amateur magician

And we are both trying so hard

To save our best magic trick to use on ourselves

So that everyone can stop asking so much of us

bent backs

grasses bent in a tweak of fingers

bent my fingers bent my bones

my toes in

earth sweating dew

digging a way out

sweetness

sucking on a single clover

I will count them all

shards of glass in the mirror

every part of me adds

up to nothing

I’m standing in front of violets

in front of a Renaissance painting

and wondering what do I have