We Are From
Tenth Grade
We are from weekly Chinese takeout.
We can see the Statue of Liberty,
green and hollow,
tasting like iron,
outside our window smelling of oxidation.
We are from our grandmothers' food,
with the memories,
the tears and the smiles.
We are from the courts
where we learned to play basketball.
We are from the group of people
who compare ourselves with others.
We are from a ring light and tripod,
from social media.
We are from brick-built brownstones.
We are from the smell of Clorox
and loud music on Sunday mornings.
We are from our parents,
a loving mother and father.
We are from sleeping in,
waking up late,
being lazy all day.
We are from markers and paint fumes.
We are from Jersey City, and we are pretty.
We are from brown hair,
curly like deep golden perfect curly fries.
We are from our pool,
warm and wet.
We are from Jamaican pepper plants
from our dad’s garden.
We are from small get-togethers and loud gatherings,
from conversations
that feel like they last a lifetime.
From our mother’s protective nature
to our father’s carelessness.
We are from a dying tulip
that looks timid to grow.
From the family
we can’t do anything without.
We are from ourselves
and all we need,
and what’s to come.
We are from our home,
a place of comfort.