In Guantanamo
A man composes a poem
pressing his thumbnail
into the white permanence
of his Styrofoam cup -
Arabic script of praise song,
of lament, circling the cup,
cup of our disdain. Hail the
cup, singing its squeaky dirge
in the land of our castoffs.
Hail the poet's nail, thumb,
muscle and hail his nerve.
Border Crossing in the 1980s
In the desert
near the border,
my Nana made
sandwiches
for men who cut
across her backyard:
white bread,
margarine,
government cheese.
Other white people
told her to stop,
said it wasn't safe.
Don't be ridiculous
said my Nana.
What am I to do
with all this cheese?