NOVA REEVES

Bracero

You move, and I move
they move, and you move
we send our eldest son over
the border, without return
without return, within return
a broken river,
a place without diagnoses,
a forced tongue
Even though we are all mirrors,
when he returns, it will be to
flat surfaces, closed ears
Nowhere will call his name,
the five forms of home,
no one will owe him a thing.

 

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