Tina Demirdjian: ORANGES FROM THE BOSPHORUS

She fed me oranges and my worries went away
on the road from the Bosphorus
I spit the seeds out the window
of the small white car
speeding down the mountain
at fifteen I planted my memory
there on the dirt road
and found the beginning of where
my skin was born
on the hands of all my grandmothers

waving to me on that dirt road;
shouting their stories in the wind
so I can hear their echo
even in the speeding car,
and carry voices in my pocket
eating oranges
laughing and telling jokes
in another language,
and smiling each time

I see an old woman reminding me
of all my grandmothers
and all their sad eyes staring
at me, watching me leave
the land where they were born;
hoping I take a piece of them
with me to remember when I am old.

1999