Immigration

sweet panic

part of: Three Dimensions of Human Thought

by Nathalie Molina Niño

there is something sweet and melancholy
about sleeping alone
back in the proverbial saddle
hotel cells and pricey cafeteria food
delivered to me in 35 minutes for a tip

I migrate, in time
(after the bruises fade and the music returns)
back to the middle
head sandwiched between pillows
predictably too big and fluffy
television brings outrage
and I’ve decided to blame the morning’s nosebleed on it too

No sense in returning hate for Arizona hate
mathematics are against them
this is a country turning on its side
on its colorful, multilingual side
the first about to be dominated by the former exception
they may institutionalize hate today
but we will become the institution tomorrow

there is something sweet and melancholy
about this panic, their panic.