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Pilgrimage 8

by Chris Abani

Growing up, Emeka was albino.

How we feared his pink skin and red eyes.

How we loathed him.

To my shame, I never ate with him,

saying: I just ate,

And to my sister under my breath:

He disgusts me.

She never told on me, but made me wait

while she ate with him

— same plate, no utensils —

her eyes never leaving mine.

from SanctificumFind it in the library

Copyright 2010 Chris Abani
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Copper Canyon Press.

Published in Chris Abani Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.