Liars

Auntie Sachi wouldn’t have given me the Time magazine

if Uncle Kiyoshi hadn’t read it yet.

She wouldn’t have let us stay in their house

if she wanted us to move out.

She wouldn’t say she loves both her daughters the same

and give one more rice.

She is always truthful—

so I know she didn’t lie

when she told me that during the war

her family had to sell their house and grocery store

and everything they owned in Sacramento

and move to Arizona

to live in a shack

in a camp

surrounded by barbed wire

with hundreds of other families

while her big brother fought in the army

for our country.

“You’re a liar, Liar!”

they’re telling me in history.

“Show us where that’s in our book,”

they want to know.

It’s not in our history book.

Maybe the people who wrote the book

forgot what happened to Auntie,

or decided to leave that part out

so no one would ever know what happened.

And after a while, everyone would forget

or call those who remembered

liars.