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.

