Where Are You From?

by Katie Kemple

New York, no Yonkers, no, High Falls, no
Saint Thomas. No, disappointment in life.
My father who lost his first wife in a car
crash. My mother who lost her first husband

to an actor’s wife. I’m from the Westchester
school where they taught. I’m from the camping
trip they took. And from the mean-spirited look
my father’s mother gave my mom. I’m from:

he should have stayed in the brotherhood. I’m
from he survived Vietnam. I’m from my mom
rebelling against a privileged life, international
travel, private college, and time to herself.

I’m from anger at the world. I’m from anger,
anger, angry. I’m from let’s make it better,
maybe. I’m from no time to lose. I’m from
a grain of hope, sand stuck in flip flops, bare-

foot walks on the beach. I’m from the cure
to tensions from a second wedding. I’m from
a grasp at stability. I’m from a dream of life
in the country. I’m from shackles of good.