Poet Farnaz Fatemi reads her poem "Immigrant."
Immigrant
Now that I have learned
the backbend in skirts
and braids, gaze on the horizon
I know is there and I know
knows me, I would not change
anything. These moves keep me
limber enough to see
upside-down. My brain knows
better. Inverted,
I am a beast of burden
carrying myself.
I would not
change anything.
The seafoam green
of the shifting seasons,
the geese I hear
when I can’t see, the way
my manicure keeps me
from using my fingers.
It is good exercise, to change
posture, position, remove
the horizon from the equation.
I am oriented to the west
or to the east. It’s stasis
that dizzies.
If I try too hard
to stay in the bend, I forget
myself, I take false breaths,
imagine it’s easy.
I straighten up to start again.
I breathe deep. Collect
the red blood cells. Draw down.