Journey to Poston
pale desert sun . . .
what does the soldier care
about the birdcage
I forgot
to leave open?
mesas and buttes
rise up beyond
dusty bus windows―
our mouths too dry
to say the names
stuffing straw
into mattresses
we add sprigs
of desert lavender―
the Sonoran wind
he checks
my shoes for scorpions
every morning―
such is the way of love
in Arizona
the MP pretends
not to notice―
my boy sneaking back
into camp, tiny fossils
in his pocket
shikataganai―
it can't be helped:
moonlight
sparkling grit
on tarpaper walls
Dedication:
Family of Lawrence Yatsu
Poston Relocation Center
Poston, Arizona, 1942-1945
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