Where I’m From (jean)

I am from books and running shoes,

from Jack Daniels and powdered milk.

I am from the shot-heard-round-the-world bridge and the kettle hole pond,

from leafy freedom and feral suburbia.

I am from the bottom of the pig pile,

kill the guy with the ball,

bloody knuckles and cops and robbers.

I am from “No, you can’t” and “because you’re a girl.”

I am from mandolin tremolos and chef’s knives,

from Mariano and Edith, from Doreen and John,

from bombing evacuations and a gas oven left on.

I am from fish cakes n beans, franks n beans, beans n beans,

from trifle and marmite.

I am from archipelagos twice over and settler colonialism times three,

from memories and mementos lost in family stories not to be told.