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Immigration Quotas

Marcela Sulak

All my life I have been meeting foreigners. They ride bicycles they cook
delicious they buy tickets to the opera they pronounce my name in burning
vowels direct my steps witheloquent turns of wrist but though they have
gardens and have set my bones and I have met their great aunts and seen
their sofas and smelled their skin they will leave me motionlessafter sunset
the credits picking raspberries the Van Gogh before half-closed eyes of Russian
icons and gold leaf glittering under buzzing lights and temperature. The visa
will expire too loud to resist the band will hit a wrong note the bank will fail the
hand will drop off the shoulder. It will have been vacation high tide an accident
a mispronunciation an unfortunate choice an ill-advised use of slang.

Marcela Sulak

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