Rootland

ROOTLAND

There's always a famine in the old country.

That’s why it’s the old country. 

And we never quite acquire the cadence

of the new, which is what our elders

in the old country said too. What bits

we do is through the children,

who we both hope learn the ropes

for life here and fear they’ll forget 

where they're from, though when

they press the question, we're dumb.

It may be neither here nor there, 

but where does one locate the ache 

of late September, the place abandoned

train-tracks whisper towards?

They're tangled, sure, these last ties

to an answer, but as the chronic stab

of this passed-down heart condition

will gladly attest, not grown over yet.