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Volume I

Volume II

Volume III


Guest Book

Carayan Press

You and I
©2000 Janet Stickmon

I dreamt of the U.S.
What it would be like?

On the plane,
Over land and water
I was
High on dreams
On tantalizing tales
Luring me with gazes,
And visions of mazes
Through the
Land of milk and honey
Where I would give birth to you
These are my dreams:
We would go to the park and have picnics
And be greeted by white faces
In my new home
Home is the United States.
Where I would be happy.
I would be happy.

And, anak I was so happy with you.
You and I
We picked cans together
Pulled on our latex gloves
And dug in every trash can in the park

Plunged our hands
Through shitty diapers and ripped-up pornography
Half-eaten hot dogs and hamburger buns
All for five aluminum cans

Five aluminum cans
We smashed to the rhythm
Of my fluctuating heartbeat that weakened
Every time I watched your little hand reach in the trash
And quickened
Every time we found a can

And weakened
When I asked that white guy, “Are you throwin’ that away?”
And quickened
When I chased him with my stick
After he told me to go back where I came from.

You thought we were just picking cans
When we were picking soft rubies
And crushing them beneath our feet
Crushing our hearts, squeezing out the dignity
And selling them for 40 cents a pound
I was fighting a private revolution
Revolving around me, the trash can and my new homeland

Continue to Part II


Copyright ©2005 Carayan Press