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Lawson Fusao Inada reads “Concentration Constellation”

Concentration Constellation

In this early configuration,
we have, not points of light,
but prominent barbs of dark.

It’s all right there on the map.
It’s all right there in the mind.
Find it. If you care to look.

Begin between the Golden State’s
highest and lowest elevations
and name that location

Manzanar. Rattlesnake a line
southward to the zone
of Arizona, to the home
of natives on the reservation,
and call those Gila, Poston.

Then just take your time
winding your way across
the Southwest expanse, the Lone
Star State of Texas, gathering
up a mess of blues as you
meander around the banks
of the humid Mississippi; yes,
just make yourself at home
in the swamps of Arkansas,
for this is Rohwer and Jerome.

By now, you weary of the way,
It’s a big country, you say.
It’s a big history, hardly
Halfway through – with Amache
Looming in the Colorado desert,
Heart Mountain high in wide

Wyoming, Minidoka on the moon
of Idaho, then down to Utah’s
jewel of Topaz before finding
yourself at northern California’s
frozen shore of Tule Lake …

Now regard what sort of shape
this constellation takes.
It sits there like a jagged scar,
massive, on the massive landscape.
It lies there like the rested wire
of a twisted and remembered fence.

Lawson Fusao Inada, “Concentration Constellation” in Legends from Camp (Minneapolis: Coffee House Press, 1993).

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