Being Chinese

In Los Angeles airport I sit
stunned by the English, letters
harsh things with no stories
I know. The food smells dead,
metal forks and knives set
for making war against food.

I am undone and done again,
broken off from narratives
of birth and being, of limits
broken by the genius of slaves.
I stand here where I was born,
and the masks wait for me.

Afaa Michael Weaver, "Being Chinese" from City of Eternal Spring. Copyright © 2014 by Afaa Michael Weaver.  Reprinted by permission of University of Pittsburgh Press.
Source: City of Eternal Spring (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2014)
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