"all are welcome, well that isif you’re from here, but you’re not"Theresa Daviswhen was there ever a timewhen melanin skinned folkswere afraid to walk the landafraid to show their skinblood pumping through veinsloaded into boatswalked off of cliffsopportunistliving largein the land of opportunityinterment campsEllis islanda gift from Franceholding lamp lightbeckoningtauntingwith the threat of freedomstars and barsstripes of red hash marks lipswhip stingboarder patroldead hands around necksbowedavoid eye contactyes sirno sirthe side of your mouth hungryskin kissed from sunmigrantmigrationemigrantimmigrationeverybody hereis from some place elsethe minorityhas become the majorityso cut out the fatshow me your papersshow me your bootstrapsoutsourceshow me your Englandyour Irishyour Sony“Welcome to Moe’s”the way to a countryis through it’s stomachunless you can findthe soft spottortilla fleshshow me your papersso I can borrow your charmadopt your mannerismsyour dietyour stylepoint me to the nearest tanning bedthe nearest landscaped propertyso authenticso quaint“Well that’s Un-American,” he saysand I want to ask himif he’s ever seen a mapever noticed how Americahas a northand southhow we all Americans herethat what he really wants to sayis United States-ianbut the united in that sentimentsounds like a punch linesung from sea to shining seaand that the animalwho would call himself such a thingas United States-iandoesn’t existnever would existI mean hasn’t he noticedthat everyone hereis from some place elseshow me your papers
"All are welcome" was published on the blog of Theresa Davis, who is posting an original poem a day through the month of April. She lives and teaches in Atlanta. From her website, www.theresa-davis.com : In March of 2011, Theresa set out to compete in the Women of the World Poetry Slam in Columbus Ohio. She learned after making travel arrangements that she was not registered. She tried to win the video slam for entry. She lost. She tried to win the Last Chance Slam upon arrival, but in a gangster move the slam was a competition of fifteen poets cut to five, she was first and because of the dreaded score creep she was sure she would not make it past the cut. She was right. She stalked the registration table the next morning wondering if any poets dropped out. They didn't. She attended the poet orientation because she didn't quite know what to do with her body. After registration she signed up to be a sacrificial poet understanding that she would not be able to compete. An hour later she got the call that she could get in if she wanted. She wanted. After two days of competition she found herself third in the finals list of women who would compete on the finals stage. She won.
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