Dear You, dear
border, and
hye-phen, and good
boi and tranny faggot,
and most divine, dear
Say Their Name
I am learning to love
the things about me
they call foreign
The way my name
dances on ten letters
and how I
carry a border
on two backs
I thought home was
supposed to taste sweet
prunes that make
a mouth curl into itself
and rosewater
for exhaling hands
In Iran, my mom says,
it is custom to give breath to hands
In America, everything
in the name of redemption
Like the way the officer
says Iran and then takes
my father aside
for extra questioning
Like the way they say ma’am
and I think they mean me
What is the name we give
for sacrifice,
for a rhythm of
boundaries or
the inhabiting of a
space not made
Border between
what is there and
what is not
I am beautiful because I sacrificed
what was there for
what is (not)
What is resilient
If not the way I tremble
before God
before Allah
before Marsha
before Say Their Name
before The Next One Dead
before those more divine than the blood of our illusions