Green Card
Inside the animal of my grief,
a timeline. Today is year thirteen
and I am trying to push into
forever. A territory
where I no longer count
the days of my alienhood.
Imagine love when the state
recognizes your devotion
as nothing. I am my expiration date,
the foreboding hour when I am no longer
useful as my visa needs me to be.
I am always the question of marriage,
in the abstract, shivering in shame
– anticipating the interview where
I am asked to sketch out the wedding
financials and the tragedy of what I told my father.
I know my new country wants the green story,
easy to sell, breezy and beautiful.
But I am not American,
I am ineligible for entry
into my partner’s privilege.
Their citizenship cuts at my teeth.
A reminder: You can live in a country
and not live. What I wish would be enough:
adding peanut butter to the grocery lists
of my own volition, surviving
the erasure of my mother tongue,
crossing the ocean each time
my lover touches me like a prayer.
In my dreams, I call this place home.