Chasing Iran

We fantasize and lament

our cowardice: we should

have burned our passports.

 

A silver M glistens around

my neck, a constant

reminder of

Cousins –

Cards –

Food –

Aunts –

Uncles –

thousands of miles away.

 

There is a hole where there wasn’t before.

 

Memories of headscarves and

soccer in parking structures and

three-lane freeways turned into six

tumble into it

 

Awaiting my return.

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