Esther Lin

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Esther Lin

Three Poems

 

Undocumented, Ultramarine

 
Allow me to admire the painted Lord,
his lapis lazuli, dug from the valley
of Kokcha, hauled on the Silk Road to the
cloud-bound Normandy, clave and placed

in a mortar by a pious woman. It is
her hands that comprise the nature of the Lord,
having split stone, built fires, fetched water to coax
heavenly light, and then hold it. Lapis

knows how application may transform it
from rock to paint to night sky. Transformation
demands material, finesse. Quite unlike

how, by large rubber stamp in the hand of
a Homeland Security agent, I,
undocumented woman, sprung into being.
 

Esther Lin reads “Undocumented, Ultramarine”

 

Speaking Frankly

 
When I sprung into being, the agent
mandated I speak frankly. Who I am.
What to desire. For us undocumented,
such acts are outlawed. For twenty years I’d

fashioned a church to honor the self I
was not. The things I did not desire. How
pretty! I built lavishly. I added height
and spectacle. When it bored me, I kicked

it over and assembled a new one.
My churches resembled women who refused
to vote. Choose. Who longed, sometimes, to self-

deport. Now that I live far from home, I am
learning there are other ways. Now I am
learning to dismantle each pane and stone.
 

Esther Lin reads “Speaking Frankly”

 

Making Do

 
To dismantle each pane and stone, to replace
in the style of their time, the artisans
of Sainte-Chapelle worked fifteen years. Intent
had been the fires of revolution.

Postwar artisans introduced the style
of making do. Intent had been the shells
of planes. Today its neighbor Notre Dame
spouts smoke. The public must know that, of Gothic

churches, there is no single form to return
to. Hybrid and yet irreducible—just
as there is no single place we the

undocumented call a home. We hoard
lists of places we may rest. We contrive
the rest. The word home must be home enough.
 

Esther Lin reads “Making Do”

 

Esther Lin was born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and lived in the United States as an undocumented immigrant for 21 years. She is the author of Cold Thief Place, winner of the 2023 Alice James Award, and co-editor of Here to Stay: Poetry and Prose from the Undocumented Diaspora (HarperCollins 2024), and recipient of the Pushcart Prize in 2024. She was a Writing Fellow at the Fine Arts Work Center, Provincetown; and a Wallace Stegner Fellow at Stanford University. With Marcelo Hernandez Castillo and Janine Joseph, she co-organizes the Undocupoets, which promotes the work of undocumented poets and raises consciousness about the structural barriers that they face in the literary community.