The news today says the new president wants to start  
denaturalizing some citizens. I look it up: “to make something

unnatural.” How does one do that?  By putting a hat on a horse?
Sunglasses on a sunflower? Painting a tree the color of a tree?

I was naturalized in 2002, under a portrait of George W.,
and swore allegiance in a room as colorful as the world.

I learned to speak American, learned to say “out” and “house”  
by depressing the back of my tongue as I spoke.

Now my heart races when I smell BBQ and I get a tingle
of pride listening to Ronnie Van Zant croon about freedom.

My wife, American born Jewess, traces her American roots
back an impressive three generations.  

My family never stayed anywhere that long, either forced out
by rifles and rape, or when the borders of their countries  

shifted beneath them, one flag swapped out for another.
Naturalized or not, they were never natural, never real

citizens. They were always zhyds, meaning Jews, a slur
across all Slavic languages. In 1762, Empress Catherine II

invited all foreigners to settle in Russia with one exception: zhyds.
Say the word out loud and you can hear the revulsion, the hate.

I may look like you, America, with my eyes and my hands, affections  
and passions, my sneakers, Rock ‘n Roll t-shirt and khaki shorts,

but I’m not fooling anyone: I’m not you and can never be you.  
One day my bones may hang in a Museum of UnnaturalHistory.  

They’ll wire my jaws together so that I’m always smiling.