homeless
I live in foreign spaces
among foreign people I move my body
people that do not imprint my existence
but only my shadows
I am the seized passport
left in the hotel sideboards
lost signals pass me by
in the ether of the dispersed radio stations
I am seeking the voice of my father
in public phone boxes
it gurgles in distant echoes
only the glass sticky with breath
is separating us
I call myself with many names
and I belong to many nations
but only this body belongs to me
even though my body is shifting away from me
to return back to myself
to my father
to my fatherland
to my land
which does not exist
[which has never even existed]
to the name which is now gone away
except the name that you have imposed me:
nailed from the heart
on my broken bones