Parents left behind in Holland must have
felt the same loss.
What did they care about beaver pelts and land grants?
Eylants and hoeks and kils so far from home.
I might resent that siren, New York, if
forty years ago she hadn’t called to me.
I know all the world lies beyond that subway exit.
Dice roll, leaves scatter, I made a choice
to move to this place you couldn’t wait to leave.
When I learned to ride a two-wheeler
Dad ran alongside holding the seat.
I still remember the feeling when I realized
he had let go.
Jean Lamberty is a poet living in Dallas.