Ghosts of the Border

Ben Kercheval, Student
Thursday, November 19, 2009

Preguntas Para Una Fantasma

Rusted metal poles slide between my hands,
burn my thighs as I shimmy down the Fence.
Old Jumex cans litter the desert.
Who would bring sugary juice to the Devil’s Playground?
I feel the mystery of the desert; ancient, haunted, barren, and parched.
Is your ghost there, too?
Do you feel it, too?
Does your skin burn under the molten sun?
Do you feel scared, nervous, excited, hopeful?
Are you dying of thirst?
Are your lungs full of rocks?
Who are you?
Where is your family?
Are you angry at the Border Patrol?
I hope you feel brave, loved, satisfied,
and impervious to the thorns.
I want what you want.
I bleed your blood.
But I don’t know who you are.
Are your hands specked with red from the rusted metal poles,
as you go to the Other Side?

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