Asylum stamp’s resounding thud
Is this the moment you claim freedom?
Island of your birth, tear-dropped land
of lush, blunt hills no longer yours
You gorgeous bird—
crossing borders in flight under a dark sun
Past the iconic lady, her torch
burning You claim
no country, no country claims you
but this: a Brooklyn apartment, white walls,
and hanging maps of your desires
How to write the passage of your body
into memory long as the unfurling sky
The noodles your mother made
Ceiling fan’s lazy spin, dust
suspended in sunlight
Is home this number on the door?
The way your key fits into the lock?