Orestes Knows He Scraped The Door 
When He Was Not There

My old wooden door! I'd have been able to 
find your keyhole with my eyes shut. And that
notch there—I might have made it…
-Jean-Paul Sartre, The Flies

Orestes knows he scraped the door
when he was not there. “Yo hubiera
vivido ahí,” he said, I would have passed
through ten thousand times and more.

“Yo hubiera”, he said, I would have, if there,
known your names better than my own
would have said them ten thousand times
and more. But, no, this isn’t my country

anymore. I would’ve liked to know your names,
faces, I try remembering now. But, I’ve tricked myself
out. And this isn’t my country anymore. When guilt tries
to bore into Orestes, “Yo soy libre,” he says,

but I try to remember why I tricked myself
out of the language. America has
clichéd in my mind into me. “Yo soy”
no, I am..I am I cannot lose

America I would steal. Your language, America
I said I would pass everything for you.
“I am...I am” America I cannot lose
the door I never scraped. Orestes knows
he scraped the door when he was not there.
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