5 Microaggressions (My Last Poem For You)
You are so lazy.
My name is one more syllable at the end
a sound I know you know well––“uh”
Use your tongue, don’t you dare cheat.
“Where are you really from?”
Where do you think?
I want you to say it loud, tell me who you think I am
tell me why. Do not veil your ignorance with curiosity.
You have not earned the right to innocence.
“We wanted to make sure the grammar was right.”
Of my Spanish. A language you do not know. A language I know intimately.
My Spanish loves me more than your English.
What a thing you did––colonizing a language that has already colonized
thousands. You hold a boldness in your hands, it is heavy, and it bleeds––
you are hungry for power. Stop hurting what is not yours.
“Why are you so loud?”
You hate that someone like me could take up
space from someone like you. Do you hate it when my words touch you?
All I have are words. I will use them, plunge them deep
into the marrow of your bones until you hear me.
We are people. Yes, we are people. You wish we were nothing
but dust and memories. Do we scare you? We people are going to “steal” your jobs.
No. We are going to earn everything you think you were born deserving.
We take it back for ourselves, lather in the goodness of our time, you will get nothing.
That is the least we could do.
We take back what you stole.