On my adoption anniversary, I write my mother a letter

You used to say

it doesn’t matter

who birthed me

what mattered is

I am american.

You used to say

I am special

because no one

in our suburb

looks like me,

not even you.

Your step-father

gave me a

pearl necklace

after my naturalization

then taught me racism,

taught me always

eat your crust

because he survived

the great depression.

Decades later, you held

my pearls hostage

while I returned the gift

of the american dream,

opened & worn.

All this to say,

can I please have

my pearls back?