Immigrant’s Son by Shawn Anto

what it means to be: a good son

model fucking minority

split between my parent’s whims

& my own—I am 27-years-old & still have no absolution.

No single decision of free form thought

across scattering mind

must be a baby

must’ve just woken up from a nap

must’ve cried but no one comes in

no one hears, looking at you, what do you need?

shake the bars of the crib each travelling distance

pray, must humble thyself among the water

collecting at the feet—there is always someone in the room

ghosts wandering at the corner, among the walls

parents right there tugging, each storm growing anger

humbling each fury, bow down overwhelming

made you blind—this thing with immigrant parents

truth is, the responsibility of honor & glory

trickling down blood lines

you become the parent, deal with the self. long time ago. becoming the doctor they dream you will be

right here: I’ll do what you want

I always do, but I will marry who I want, not who you choose

I will lead myself toward another home

on my own 

time.

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Shawn Anto is 23 years old from Bakersfield, California. He’s originally from Kerala, India. He currently studies at Cal State Bakersfield looking to receive his B.A. in English & Theatre. His writing has been featured or are forthcoming in The Paragon Press, Edify Fiction, Susan/The Journal, Internet Void, Ink & Voices and Mojave Heart Review.