she comes to america, america the bright, america the light
she comes to america the same reason a moth comes to a lightbulb
she comes to become fire
to become fire, as in bright, as in fiery, as incendiary as your imagination
she comes to become fire
but instead
she's fired upon
a ghost under the shells of a gun

cau tran
mother of two
you didn't expect this, didn't you?

you dial 911
but when did 911 stop meaning a call for help
and start meaning a call for guns
9 is the trigger
1 is the bullet
1 is the last

thanks to the boys in blue
with the white stars
and now red stains too

when a mother dies, not just a light goes out, a darkness goes in
a darkness goes into not only the home that she leaves behind
but into the hearts of two children alone

(i write as i ride a bus at 2 am, this poem is unfinished, like most poems and, sad to say, most lives too.)

www.tranmemorial.com