The America of which I am most proud is the America that welcomes, the harbor that embraces many cultures, where the rising tide lifts all ships. All.
DOUBLE HELIX
When I walk through the woods
snapping spider silk with my face,
I puzzle the tiny tightrope walkers,
not weaving in safe places, but bridging
pine to pine, the way certain high wire artists
span skyscrapers because their father and forefathers
balanced in the old country, then here,
in latex and spangles—on a bicycle supporting
two brothers holding a pole that supports a daughter
who supports her daughter standing on her head.
You know the act. For other families,
it’s Harvard, or heroin, so forest spiders;
how wondrous, the how, the why,
snapping spider silk with my face.
