Saturday, August 3, 2024

At the border: Elegy 11

At the border


Not your killer

But the woman

Who killed you

Pleads innocent to the court

Admitted that she

--No, the devil--

Used the knife

As if the devil

Were other /

Migrant who crosses

Borders / getting all

The free stuff

Trucked back south


The knife cut you

Open like pages

Of a book

You wanted to read

A carriage driver in cahoots

With demon-logic

Kindly stopped for you

The event plays again

In my ribs’ cell block

I think you’d feel for

Her / tangled in samsara

Of self and colonialism

Who knows which

Jealous of you

Dear borderless pilgrim


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