Monday, May 16, 2016

Wetback of eternity


Wetback of eternity


I am                undocumented worker of eternity,
an illegal                   crossing the border of a dream.

My passport of existence has expired.
Without proper documentation                my bones are worthless.

I travel            night in a crowded truck without headlights.
I sleep in the backrooms of the law.

My American dream became
the hell of my exile.

He has come out of shadows, they point at me and say,
when I appear from the toilets of my job.

It doesn’t matter.  I celebrate like a wetback
the passage of wind in desert altars

and contemplate infinity in the place
where the twin towers stood.

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