Jake Vermaas

Jake Vermaas is a 1.5 or 0.5-generation immigrant or a natural-born citizen, depending on who you ask. A poet and engineer in Portland, OR, he co-founded (with friends) the Whitenoise Project, a reading and discussion series aiming to center writers of color and underrepresented voices. He has won a couple contests and been published in the occasional literary journal, but none of those was more meaningful than getting asked to read with 9 rockstar Filipinx poets at this March's AWP conference.

excerpt from: [ first fruits ]
for Exequiel Verry 1921-2007

(this poem was first published as part of APANO's Families, Reimagined project)

//

you didn't
even need    papers
the first time   you almost
went stateside  they needed
coolies from an Orient
more like the East
Indies

//

it was
either  Alta California
or Hawaii or Mindanao   no
difference between them  empire
ically so you chose
the latter

//

you were
not a ward of the
State but later    became
one of two childless Americans
the Verrys   you took    their
name after another em
pire took every
thing else

//

no longer
a Nunag or Pineda
your family tried to make
you their slave after   your
parents passed   so
you ran

//

the resist
ance came calling
but      you would have fought
without the offer   of citizenship
which was good since
they took it away
anyway

//

soon after
the bodies were cold    you
had to look up what “rescission”
meant     your education ended
at ten    forget about
benefits

//

you had
nothing   to inherit in the
ruins    no papers your folks claimed
you with     no reparations paid
to anyone that looked
like you

//

one spring
break a college
friend joked about seeing
the server's immigration papers
& i ghosted her after but
regret not calling
it out

//

your boy
R—-  and his wife went
TnT in the 80s    cause my cousin had
epilepsy so bad    it might kill him
but it shouldn’t have
mattered

//

when we
flew back what was
left   when you left  to the banks of
the Rio Grande de Pampanga   was
it home? what did it
look like?

//

on my
trips back to your
town   later   i couldn’t help
but see other selves: half asians
whose first world dads
didn’t care to
file papers

//

when i
hear ppl rail about “illegals”
i think of you and how you had
nothing
                   how you always made sure
my cousins and i knew    we
were citizens of
your nation.

//