Avedis stood at the rail
staring into the water
on the crossing
from Southern France
into Manhattan;
black waves with red foam
following the ship across
the Atlantic, the dead
from the Great War
filling his throat
like the bodies of fish
too small to travel alone 
riding inside whales 
and dolphins.
 
Avedis meant “brings
good news” in Armenian;
on Ellis Island, they called
him James, then Jimmy,
erasing the news he brought 
as well as his past; 
On land, in the new country
he practiced saying his name:
like tiny bones
the sound splintered
on his tongue.