In a foreign state
Surrounded by family
Running and gleefully shouting beautiful children
Feeling a crisis of ambition
Wondering again
As we pass graffiti endorsements for Governor
President
What is calling out to me now?
What laughter stays vibrating in my ovaries?
What can I create from my unrootedness?
Is the soil even fertile? And will there be sun?
Or does it want me to die a forever migrant?
Is that still, small voice still singing?
Or is she bound and gagged and forced to watch the abuse?
Drugged and made placid
How to connect to your dreams when they’ve collected so much dust
Not 6 feet yet