sophia in bali

sophia crossed the sea to be happy in her skin

free from the american dream machine

with glassy wheels that spin

and wrap deep wounds in clean, white, american cotton

throwing a curtain over fields and cotton gins

while clean, white americans go to rooftop bars

to drink american gin and stargaze 

but they can only count fifty stars

she couldn’t explain trauma, but she knew it was there

when she was frowned at for shaving her hair 

but her colleagues came in with messy blue hair

so she traveled across a messy blue sea

and found her messy blue dream in coconut air

still carrying years of strain

because no expanse of ocean

can forget american pain

she says there’s a spectrum of skepticism and success 

but black americans are told to dream less 

it’s a formula in our experiment in humanity

that failed us in the west 

in her home in bali she scorns the stars and stripes

but turns when her fruit falls from the tree after it ripes

out here, she says, she’s exactly where she’s meant to be

she drinks clean island air far from american dream pipes

on lottery tickets in gas stations

next to coke bottles dripping with dreams 

people scratch away at fantasies of beach blankets and ripped jeans

they turn a blind eye to the trauma 

blanket-stitched into the american flag’s seams

they go home and pull blankets over heads

asleep in american-made beds 

built from california redwood trees 

it’s more than survival, she says

survival is at the root

they feel the growing pains and the rotting gilded age remains

from pulling themselves up by the straps of their boots

she knows she’s blessed for the blood and sweat

but many dreams are under threat

she says, go to the library and find a better dream

imagine something more than survival on the internet

we need a new definition of what it means to be human

if we’re going to craft a better dream for ourselves

look to the american teenagers who couldn’t have sleepovers or get pizza

the ones who went seafaring in library shelves

you can find them protesting in streets—hear their voices swell

they scream for the ones they loved, the ones they knew

they squelch the voices that say protesting racism is protesting america 

because now people can’t even separate the two