when they say pledge allegiance, I say
BY HALA ALYAN
my country is a ghost // a mouth trying to say sorry and it comes out all smog // all citizen and
bullet and seed // my country is a machine // a spell of bad weather // a feather lacing my mother’s
black hair // I mean her dyed hair // I mean her blonde hair // I mean her hair matches my country
// so shiny and borrowed and painted over // my country is a number
like—
it is 1948 and my great-great-grandmother flattens bread with her hands // while my other great-
great-grandmother prays with her hands // one watches her land disappear // the other builds a
house on land that will disappear
my country is an airport line a year of highways an intermission // my country is Stockholm
syndrome // is immigrant mouth saying thank you saying please saying // my country is no country
but ghost // is no man but ghost // my country is dead // my country is name the dead // give them
their salt
my country is a mouth trying to say pledge and it comes out all salt // my country is a mouth and
nobody can pronounce my name // I mean my country forgets my name // I mean my country is
always asking for my name // and I’m always saying it twice // spelling it like an address // my
country is a number
like—
it is 1967 and every Arab leader is crying every mother is clutching // the sons she has left and my
great-grandmother names my mother // nostalgia while my other great-grandmother names my
father // a gun // my country is all ghost // my grandmother is all ghost // my grandmother is a
country I mean my grandmother is my country // I mean my country is a lie is an emptied house is
one thousand cardboard boxes // my country is remember when we left Akka // I mean Gaza // I
mean Homs // my country is a number
like—
it is 1990 // my mother is crossing a border I mean desert I mean life // I am at her heels // I am
paying attention // I mean I am learning to pray to a flag // I mean I am learning English // I mean
I am forgetting Arabic
or—
it is 1994 and I am falling in love with a white boy // a habit I’ll never kick
or—
it is 2006 and my grandparents won’t evacuate // won’t leave another war // and all summer I
dream of floods // collect bullets and love the wrong person
or—
it is 2003 and I am in Beirut watching Baghdad burn because of America // I mean I am in my
country // watching my country burn because of my // country
or—
it is 2016 and who saw it coming // some saw it coming
or—
it is 2020 and the women in Beirut are a sea // I mean my country // looks beautiful in red // I
mean I look beautiful in red // I mean this country likes me in red
or—
it is every year and my country is taken // I mean my country is stolen land // I mean all my
countries are stolen land // I mean sometimes I am on the wrong side of the stealing // my country
is an opening // I mean bloom // I mean bloom not like flower // but bloom like explosion // my
country is a teacher // I mean do you want to see my passport // I mean do you like my accent // I
mean I stole them // I mean I stole them // I mean where do you think I learned that from
