Gin Sanchez Poet I do not know?

Green Card

We are lucky.  We sit and wait.
We were early.  Others are too late.
There is a smell, body odor,
Stale food, heat, smoke and piss.
I kiss my daughter into another hour.

We sit as if waiting at a cold bus stop,
Dependent, huddled together, waiting to
go...we know...
there's no spare room.
There are tired faces filling floor spaces,
A baby cries while his mother rocks him
To and fro...to and fro...

"No we can't go!" 
I say to my daughter.
She is two and restless,
I am restless too.
"Mommy has to stay a while."
I smile to cheer her.

We sit and wait.

We are still waiting.

Patiently she drinks her juice.
I feel vulnerability creeping up on me,
And hold her hand tight.
She has more right...
To be here.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment