We didn’t know yet that
we were immigrants too …
No need for wings or legs
in the buoyant tide of the ocean …
The woman pushing the shopping cart
with a crumpled plastic white bag inside …
I rake the bleached, washed ½ inch gravel I ordered
for my driveway; rake it like the slaves of ancestors …
That the trees have become wallflowers
against the dim sky, stand in a shirking …
