Border Crossing By Raul Sánchez

talking             twisted            tongue

language          among              the tundra

   lichen                       blackberry bushes                   thorns

holding            back      ripping          our clothes

     piercing          our               skin

             bleeding            

falling       off    the     leaves

like        morning        dew

     and       the     red     dawn—

down    the      path

the            fence      border   guards    dressed

in grey grunt   “stop”

don’t move

    frozen     we       stayed         looking

    bleeding                  with

the         birdsong        and      the  sound

of           dangling         keys

we       remained         anonymous—

no        papers     no      names     no     passports

only the light               in our eyes

to      cross    the          fence

cuffed                and                     wet

behind    us      a     language    of       fear

to         break     us      to     lay    us

down

   under            the        darkened         sky

the          distant      gunfire—

      and                 torture         screams

we                   stood               still

by        the      fence    bleeding     in       fear