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 husbandto 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 lifein the country. I’m from shackles of good.