Breath - Poem by Mariko Rooks

I see them everywhere. Birthday parties, airports, first days of school and last parting words. And grocery stores. Always at the grocery store. 

That same face, with wide eyes and anxious smiles 

stretched over whirring brains 

overwhelmed by an amalgamation of familiar features in an impossible combination 

I hear a breath and I turn just in time to hear 

“Excuse me, but…..

What are you? 

And how can anyone to explain 

In the time it takes to scan zucchinis and a carton of milk

that I’m mathalete chung when I deliver straight A’s

dyed diversity black when those grades ascend ivory towers. 

that the only hybrids on TV are made to kill us or save us; 

They never just get to just take a minute to 

breathe

And life imitates art so now 

neither can I. 

and how do I explain that 

the guns standing just beyond the automatic doors will carry my bags 

when I’m with my mom and 

follow us out if I’m with my dad until we pray

to breathe

that scars of whips have migrated under my skin 

rubbing under into my tongue until it forms perfect verb tenses so that I don’t give them a reason

to kill

this silence, golden like my grandfather 

his skin matching the desert, trapped in barbed wire

for having half of my face 

the silence runs thick and dry, like sandstorms through barracks slicing into his throat until he still. can’t breathe. 

And how can I explain that

you shouldn't be asking me anything at all. 

But I know

(and you don’t)

That your children and your grandchildren will look like me, 

and your grandparents did too. 

So I smile at you from my shopping cart.

take a breath.

and list all the parts that add up 

To far more than a whole.