Conversation with Immigration Officer by Ae Hee Lee | Poetry Magazine

She looks at your papers.

Share She looks at your papers. She asks your husband to step out. She asks you where your husband’s birthplace is. She is testing you. You answer: we were made in water in free-flowing salt water rich with plankton & we keep a fire in our lungs it burns white red in the center like a hibiscus you must know we are all manic you must know we are not ink more than pencil-point residue graphite ... She asks for the address of your current home. You clear your throat and fold your hands on your lap. Secretly, you imagine you have just met her in a train, on the way to some undecidedly beautiful pl

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