Border Crosser
By Salma Ruth Bratt
Curious Sunday morning
When the migra stretches
His green sleeve
To stop me
With a grunt and a snort
The bus yawns open
And spits them out
They emerge triumphant
Defiant and hopeful
Moving through the white cage
I can almost hear their plans for next time
Passages untried
Burning parching famine
Gritty persistence
Finally the bus has emptied
The last man collects his cell phone
I walk next to him
On my side of the cage
Try to match his step
The jaunt of it
Across the line
Merging at the ice cream and popsicles
We make our phone calls
And we smile at this
Another bright sunny day
Another chance to try again
Salma Ruth Bratt is a professor of English and English pedagogy. She loves her sweet and thoughtful family, traveling abroad, the theater of complex and interesting playwrights, and the music of good listeners. Her writing is often conceived and nurtured in conversations with Moulay Youness Elbousty, and she is exceedingly thankful to him.
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