You Are My Cousin

by Jihmye Collins

Quietly thinking of humanity, I ponder
of someone born
near a drain pipe of Islamabad
The shanties of Subotica, Tijuana, or Manila
An infant cries out into Life
and receives the great gift
Without its knowledge
Ever to be fully lived
Its innate eminence
Snatched before the first steps
By a human enemy
Basking in Lordly inferences and gluttony
The naked truth is
infant and enemy wherever their refuge
Are my cousins