Passport by Cornelius Kelly

My passport arrived today renewed

in a hard cardboard official envelope

in red, white, and blue colors

the postal clerk scanned with eyes wide.


When tipped in the light

stars appear on my face photo

and across the varicose lines

to the emblem of the bald eagle.


Between pages fourteen and fifteen

the blue and white flower sack threads

fasten the filigree sheets to the cover

while the Rushmore Presidents stare stoically.


The visa blanks are empty dreams

with historic quotations and

I now have ten years in which to roam

the earth both leaving and returning.


Somewhere hidden carefully within

is a microchip—an integrated circuit

containing my personal data

whatever that might have to be.


Who drew these lines crisscrossing the earth

restricting movement only to those authorized

by official seals and purple stamps and

red taped governmental regulation?


Should not the steady flow of blood

pulsing through the beating heart

be sufficient validation and identification

for unrestricted travel in this world?


Swim the river and feel the current

tugging at your shaking legs

then wade the desert sands at night

stealthily until you finally arrive.


¡Bien venidos!


—C. F. Kelly

Categories: Issue 2 - Spring 2012, Periodicals, Poetry | Tags: | Leave a comment

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