Every time I say ‘yes’ I return
feel fingers in a battlefield
divvying land on my arms and chest.
You want to build something with my lips over memories when we fall asleep
so I tell the truth.

Sometimes I think
my hope is living elsewhere.
A single mom raising children
who communicate in sign language.
I know
my passport is a sign people miss on the highway
& swear was never there until they count every visa
I’ve overstayed & start pointing fingers.
I believe
we all come back
from this life as the cats in Istanbul.
I need
you to understand that all we will ever be are immigrants,
that when the land recedes the water won’t
know the color of our skin but our bones will.
Sometimes I want
to visit and settle in love but there
are landmines at the border leading to every fantasy door.
Sometimes if you look
hard enough at something it will bloom in your eyes &
make countries for refugees no one took in.