I started my poems with “you” and “your”

Begging for recognition.

I translated them into my language

And the Second Person smiled.

 

I wrote my poems in the shape of hibiscus,

In ritmo americana, in foreign genres,

And looked up at the Second Person,

Still seeking approval.

 

The Second Person was silent

Preoccupied with thoughts

Of self, of work, of classes,

Of things other than me – and was right

 

So I start my poems with a first-person singular pronoun.

So I – me – my – mine – become the centerpiece.

And I seek my own recognition

And I receive it.