We are not from here. We came from across the ocean, not the largest, but big enough. We were not welcome here. You hurled your slurs like stones, petitioned City Hall to keep us out. You kept the good, well-paying jobs for the people who looked, sounded, dressed like those in your mirror. One generation later, our names peeled off, we work hard, live where we wish, & become more than you.
Eugene Stevenson, son of immigrants, father of expatriates, lives in the mountains of western North Carolina. His chapbook, The Population of Dreams (Finishing Line Press), debuted in February. A Pushcart Prize nominee, his poems have appeared in After Hours Journal, Angel City Review, The Hudson Review, San Pedro River Review, Tipton Poetry Journal, Vassar Review & others.