She was a citizen

Of my



Coagulating juxtapositions

Of hierarchal positions

Drifting to the currents

And whims of currency


She was the

Marrow of mind

tremor of nerves

unsnappable synapse

Of bone that refused to

Bend in certain matters

Of skin


Through the parceled

Spheres of ghetto eyes

I’d look at her

In not the linear but in an

Eyes wide expanse of dream

Of what I claimed to be


Half Filipino

Blood of black and brown,

Tongue sliced, dripping

Silence of words I couldn’t

Form from a language pried

From throat like a rotten tooth


And she was a

Citizen of my



From a country

I’d claimed yet

Never set foot on


And she was fire

And flame and



Swimming into a cusp

Of consonants that

Looped around my



A frontal feast

A verbiage of verbs

A succulent garden

Of invectives


She moved

Across the boundaries

Of body and heart with

The proper documentation


And in the widening

Space between us

Was the sum of pawnshop

Skin anchored by 500.00



And the ghetto smell

Attached to my skin

Became too much to bear


And when she

Freed herself of the

Stench that was me


She became

What she



A citizen

Of America


(drunk on America)


The day the word




Her lips and down the

Side of her chin


A spewing of

Molecules in

A mouth to air reaction

Of broken chains










© 2016 Tony Robles




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