Poem: The New Egypt

I think of my father who believes
a Jew can outwit fate by owning land.
Slave to property now, I mow
and mow, my destiny the new Egypt.
From his father, the tailor, he learned not
to rent but to own; to borrow to buy.
To conform, I disguise myself and drag
the mower into the drive, where I ponder
the silky oil, the plastic casing, the choke.
From my father, I learned the dignity
of exile and the fire of acquisition,
not to live in places lightly, but to plant
the self like an orange tree in the desert
and irrigate, irrigate, irrigate.

Originally published in “Domain of Perfect Affection,” 2006, University of Pittsburgh Press.

Robin Becker’s seventh collection of poems is “Tiger Heron” (2014), published by the University of Pittsburgh Press. She teaches at Penn State and serves as poetry editor for The Women’s Review of Books.