THE MIGRANT by Edward Garza
Chino Institute for Men
I saw your shoe abandoned
There in the Sonora desert,
I though what delicate feet you must have
Lost to hundreds of miles,
I saw your young time-worn hands
Washing clothes against river rocks,
I imagined I could find your thick dark hair
On some newsreel,
The weather taking its toll on the candy wrapper
That fell from your fingers,
A face unaccustomed to Avon beauty products,
And now where are you?
In some INS cell comforting frightened children?
Or changing linen for motel chains in the Midwest,
Already lost into the landscape,
Dreaming of all you fled from by moonlight,
As misfortune stalked you
Keeping to the edge of shadows & walls,
Always away from the glare of the living,
Your face has launched a thousand ICE agents.
