Selected Poems from
The Rebel Coat

Maiya

 
Just 11 years old with a
Mona Lisa-like face, a linguist—
Georgian, Russian, English,
German, Latin, and French.

Maiya would whisper translations
in my ear when our hosts and new
friends around the generously set table
would converse in Georgian.
She likes her secret power, letting
me in on their first impressions
of Americans as they observe us.

p.66

Georgian Children at the Field Station

They gather round

and listen to us sing

with guitar and learn

the words—This land

is your land, this land

is my land, from California

to the New York island…

I teach them how to play

my favorite childhood

game, jacks and ball,

tucked in my suitcase

for a moment like this.

Awkward at first, with

focused practice and

many rounds, they soon

become the champions.

“You are even beating ME

now, the master player!”

I exclaim in feigned dismay.

They answer, “Ah, but that

means you have taught us well. “

p.72

Levan

Just ten years old,

this Georgian boy

touches a latent chord

within me.

The dreaded goodbyes

approach. He holds

my hand and whispers—

“These last moments

are so difficult.”

I realize, though our

nuclear weapons

are poised and pointed

at each other across worlds,

people still have hope

for the future through

children.

Perhaps I will be brave

enough, too, and become

a parent someday.

p.75