Where I’m From #24

by Buick Audra

Inspired by George Ella Lyon

I’m from things I didn’t get to choose

Like mango groves and Southern roots

The latter of which, I found out by looking online

I’m from water ballet in Pelican Lake

My cousin Er was other long legs

Our grandmother couldn’t quite see us, so we danced for her ears

I’m from many church basements in the suburbs of Boston

Small Styrofoam cups and hot bitter coffee

I sat with the other kids who knew all the Steps by heart

I’m from forest green platforms, with gills like the car

Owned by my aunt Nancy, kindred from the start

she still says, “I’m proud of you, Bu” each time that we speak

I’m from courage one minute and fear in the next

The twist in the back, the ache in the neck

I’m from “sorry” when I haven’t done anything to be wrong

I’m from sunshine so bright, the brain can’t adjust

From lizards and Banyan trees, Southeastern gusts

The air and the palms call me back, but I rarely go

I’m from harmonies sung by my mom and her sister

From ego that injures and claims not to miss her

It’s none of my business, but I feel it there under my skin

I’m 10 Preble Gardens and Chicago Point Road

Old 147 th and Coconut Grove

A quilt of locations I’ve been stitching all of my life

I’m from Buick and Boey, or “Boick” and “Bu”

From lessons in love and just who is who

Alike and so very different, my brother and me

I’m from choirs and girls and French braids in dresses

From what friendship means outside of our tresses

The sounds of our voices as they became one for a time

I’m from words and guitar parts, and wild disappointment

From jealousy, hurt, and quick bursts of enjoyment

The balance is one I don’t strike, but I ride on two wheels

I’m from Punk clubs and venues, obsessed with dead men

I don’t care much now, and I didn’t care then

I have looked all my years for the women and held up their light

I’m from melodies—mine, and the ones that are sent

From loud rigs and rhythms that aim to offend

I carry the pressure of all the females who were first

I’m from what I inherited and what I did not

I belong to myself; I own what I’ve got

The blood and the bone and the rasp of my one given voice

As the narratives grow and the characters fade

I stand by the music and choices I’ve made

It is the work of my life to be fine with who I have been.

Where to find Buick:

Website: https://www.buickaudra.com

Where to find Alyson:

Website: https://www.alysonshelton.com

Substack: https://whereimfrom.substack.com

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/byalysonshelton

Where I'm From #23

By Gia Ruiz

Inspired by George Ella Lyon

I am from layaways
From generic cola and heartburn causing picante chips
I am from 9 homes in 17 years, on military bases, in the middle of pineapple fields, next to undetonated bombs.
I am from plantains, brown and bruised, then fried, and smashed at just the right time.
I’m from my mom’s lived ghost stories and curly hair and loudest laugh, and elaborate homemade Halloween costumes.
From Juan and Linda and Javier
i’m from holding it in until you explode and cross country road trips, reading books in the car.
I’m from hoping there would be donuts after mass.
I’m from Panama and the Aztecs and the Ancient Publoans, and the White men who liked Brown women.
I’m from fork-pressed empanadas guided by my abuela’s hand, and my mama’s arroz con pollo with the orange box Goya seasoning.
From the desert where my dad did the odd jobs, the shoe shining outside a bar, the catching desert tortoises and bopping them on the head, the hundreds of pounds of picked cotton.
From the tias who had the powers of brujas, always sensing when something was wrong from miles away.
Being the family archivist. I have the papers and the photos, the stories and the secrets. The family’s human confessional. Given to me by everyone for safe keeping.
Packed in old Samsonite suitcases for their next journey.

Where to find Gia:

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/earnestlygia

Where to find Alyson:

Website: https://www.alysonshelton.com

Substack: https://whereimfrom.substack.com/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/byalysonshelton/

Where I’m From #22

By Fox Henry Frazier

Inspired by George Ella Lyon

I am from Susquehanna and Chenango riverbanks,

from rock salt and backyard timber rattlesnakes.

I am from a house with beautiful hearthstones—

smooth, grey, smelling faintly of rain—

and another house, scented with lavender and hibiscus

and gunpowder.

I am from ivy and holly and This berry

probably won’t kill me if I only take the tiniest bite,

and from bitter, but it didn’t.

I’m from horseback riding and I’ll go where I please,

from Kennedy and Frazier. I’m from the grandmother

murdered by the IRA in the front doorway of her house.

From I saw the spirit leave her body and stories of the púca,

I’m from dizzying incense, and which priests we learned quickly

to shy away from.

I’m from Bittersweet Farm and forest horses in a hamlet

named for peonies, from Galway Bay and lost in the Atlantic.

From ham biscuits and jambalaya, from sarmi and dolmeh.

I come from a little girl caught in a riptide & surrounded

by a school of jellyfish, who looked skyward and was pulled

ashore by the hand of God.

Where to find Fox:

Website: https://agape-editions.com/team/fox-henry-frazier-founding-eic/

Where to find Alyson:

Website: https://www.alysonshelton.com

Substack: https://whereimfrom.substack.com/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/byalysonshelton/