There are no stops when crossing the border

I am often asked about my fatherA man who crossed the so calledborder His mother paid a coyoteTo stuff him in a trunkThen walk faithfully through ColoradoIn December of 1979Not knowing much english$20 in his pocketHe bought the dreams you sold him I think about howEven 40 years laterHis favorite mealIs a Whopper with friesThe …

Idle Angels

I no longer resent my idle angelscozy and sipping their teaon new moon nightscasually talking over the soundsof my muffled tears. Yet when it wasthe 10 year old insomniac,the depressed mother cradling her newborn in shame,and the married woman with an appointmentat the clinictheir chairs were the thunder claps you heardas they leapt to my …