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Where I'm From
I am from blankets
And pillows
I am from the bricks
All red and tan
it felt rough and rigid
I am from green bushes,
the palm tree
that pricks whatever
passes by.
I’m from baking cookies
and brown eyes
From Paul and Carlalee
I’m from the always lates and
Last to leave
If you have nothing nice to say don’t
say anything at all
And family always first
I’m from no church Sundays
but holiday visits.
I’m from Metairie and
Frank’s Branch
Rice and Spaghetti
From the hearing my
grandfather lost at war
the country my dad
left to be here.
In my grandma’s closet pictures
Overflowing from the boxes
I am from the family members
who left their hometowns
to live the American Dream.
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