The DNA doesn’t lie;
less peaceful Dutch
blood and more bloody
British blood and a wee
bit Indian from some-
where between the sheets
off an Indian street
where my oppressor
English ancestor said,
“Come hither, my sweet.”
and my oppressed ancestor
had no say, and even
till this day I’m
chronically confused
about which way and
what to say — oppressor
one day; then oppressed,
without say. I guess it
really is all in the
blood, as they say.