Faded Green Card, a Poem by D. Nurkse

Faded Green Card

If I think I hear my name
or an insult, I no longer turn.
If I imagine a rock thrown
I imagine it misses;
I've learnt to be a foreigner.
I walk upstairs, paper
folded under my arm,
and when the door is locked
I scatter the news on the floor
to save the landlord's varnish.
I say to myself: Seven Years
And One Night. I put on the record
from home and let it play all night
until the sadness seems foreign and cheap
and all that's familiar is the obsessive
loyalty of one deep scratch.

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D. Nurkse is the author of twelve collections of poetry, most recently A COUNTRY OF STRANGERS, a "new and selected" from Alfred Knopf. He is the recipient of fellowships from the Whiting, Guggenheim, N.E.A., NYFA and Tanne foundations, and was given the Literature Award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. His work has been translated into Estonian, Russian, Spanish, Slovenian, French, Italian, Vietnamese, and other languages. He has also written on human rights issues, taught poetry at Rikers Island Correctional Facility, and served a term on the board of Amnesty International-USA.