A migrant's tale

A map
of the world
measures
the arc
of my
migration
two suitcases
in tow
carry
all the history
i left behind
chennai
heathrow
jfk
a slow shuttle
to la guardia
stares burning
a hole
through a piercing
already in my nose
this is the 80s, after all
onward to chicago
a new life
eight hours
north of evanston
one bedroom
to call home
television programs
as abundant as
all the potato chips
i can eat
and boy, did I
swelling my hips
to fit
the wide open space
i consumed
it all
india now
a distant
exotic
memory.