The Turning Leaf Journal

Immigration
ekphrastic for Alison Saar’s “Coup”
By Allison Burris

I’m not allowed to look behind me at what I’ve brought
the suitcase of wedding photographs
wishes tied with ribbon scraps—
they packed me so much food and in the food, seeds.

I could forget my name like you misspell it
and conjure a new un-mispronounced being.
I could forget all the things you want me to leave:
my language, my people, their hopes for me

maybe it would even be a relief
to sever the last strands
pretend I’m not braided into a history
I want or need to leave behind—
I could pretend that the scissors are sharp enough
to cut myself out

Maybe I could find a single room to let,
rather than finding space for all the aunts,
uncles, cousins, younger sisters, brothers-in-law,
grandparents, greats and great greats.
Everyone takes up so much space in my luggage
and if I weren’t carrying ashes and feasts,
I’d hardly take up any space at all.
I would barely be an inconvenience.
America, you’ve told me to make the cut.

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Allison Burris grew up in the Pacific Northwest and currently lives in Oakland, California. Her poems embrace the whimsical and cozy, explore human connection, and affirm the power of stories. She received her MLIS from San Jose State University and her poetry appears or is forthcoming in After Happy Hour Review, Passionfruit, Opal Age Tribune, Avalon Literary Review, and elsewhere. Connect with her on Instagram @alliesinklings

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Artwork Source: Installation photography, Alison Saar: Coup. LA Louver. In the public domain.