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Belonging

At MONA the slam poet said
Which box do I belong in?
How can I choose just one?
I am Australian American
Russia, Poland, Latvia, Germany, England
Four continents. Triple Entente. The war.
Double entendre.
Ashkenazi. Jew. Christian.
Do I pick Caucasian?

You say. White.
So pale my veins are blue.
But these are not my people.
I am first generation, just like you.
Can't own it.
You can.
You have a different colour.
Language. Culture.
You fit in.

Mine.
Lost.
Crossed that sea. No leavened bread.
Stories. Left behind.

Even that I don't own.
Not mine. It doesn't count.
On the outside.

My friends speak Cantonese.
What did you say?
I ask while chewing my vegemite sandwich.
Your lunch is better.
Really? I want noodles.
Teach me. I want Chinese school too.
A few words.
He. She. Dog. Go. I get a little bit.
What did you just say? I ask.
My friends say it's too hard.

Philtrum. Labrum.
Laparotomy.
We all look about the same on the inside.
I speak this language.
But we're mostly …

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