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Cornelius Eady
POETRY
 
Migration

When we tell a friend in
New York that we've bought
A weekend place, she thinks,
Then tells us how everyone
Is doing this now, after
The fall of the towers, 

And I think in self-defense,
But don't say, how the
Towers went down
On a picture perfect
Work-day morning,
After which 

All the roads, bridges,
And tunnels were
Shut down, so
So much for second
Mortgages, baby,
If it happens again. 

I don't say this,
Because I know she means
The option to be
Somewhere else, 
Because I know she means
The dice, and how we
Get to roll it, 

Unlike my parents, 
Who headed
North, for jobs,
For houses,
Simply because
Indifference
Was better than
"Never," 

Unlike my sister
And my niece,
Each in their
Grey, sometimes
Bullet-pocked
Subsidized
Apartment blocks, 

Unlike my old 
Neighborhood,
A maze of
Trying
You're not supposed
To wriggle
Out of, 

I hold my tongue
Because we just told our friend
We've bought a house
That doesn't need
To be, 

And luck is
So unfair,
Complicated,
True.  


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