I think maybe I have stayed here too long amongst the
new trees and cities. Think I have played the role
stranger
played my song
inside my suit to
re grow the skin of my
kneecaps.
what does that mean?
they asked me why
I no longer write
america love songs
why I lie crying in her
seizing body
stop being
specific
like you feel
any way
any where
at
all.
remind the philosophy of comfort
whoever it belongs to
keep me
there away from the
walled storefronts
pinned beneath
every border
the blanket of my nationality
no longer feels warm.
Rosalie Wilmot is a Seattle born poet, educator and yogini who resides primarily in Chiang Mai, Thailand. She has a chapbook, “Portal” out by Bottlecap Press and self published a microchapbook “We grew weeds“. Her work has appeared in Fuck Art, Let’s Dance, Moloko House, Zoomoozophone Review among others. She blogs at Curious Escapades and co-organizes the Magic Theatre Poetry Reading series monthly in Chiang Mai.
VAGABOND CITY 