Mojados en la Frontera entre Sonora y Arizona by David Romtvedt

They stand in a line, legs spread,

arms held above their heads,

 

hands pressed hard into the side of the truck,

palms burning on the hot paint.

 

The border patrol officers in kevlar flak jackets

sweat and pace, wipe their brows, wait.

 

An alien lifts his boot to scratch his leg

and an officer slaps him with a stick.

 

A state cruiser pulls up and parks

in the weak shade of a mesquite tree

 

and a large man gets out, stands for a moment,

removes his sunglasses, and turns to the fence

 

as if there on the other side he can see Mexico

laid out like a cow waiting to be butchered.

 

Another alien turns and looks down

the line of greasy levis and dusty boots

 

toward the sun that drops

over the distant curve of the earth.

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Categories: Issue 2 - Spring 2012, Periodicals, Poetry | Tags: | Leave a comment

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