Leave dates of entry, exit and all periods
of residency. We step from reception room
to interview room. It looks nameless because
it is nameless. Some notes ask if disease
caused—other forms refer to trauma.
The ofﬁcers say, answer for yourselves,
without prompt. We acknowledge danger
everywhere. It feels nameless because
it is nameless. We cannot seem to move beyond years
of waiting rooms, ears given to ringing. We use our children
to measure time, generations ﬁll in the page as aid ﬁeld.
With each step, further into an enormous airplane hangar.
The light is dazzling. We cannot quite see it.