José Felipe Ozuna
B rder-C ossi g as Tr th
After Robert Creeley
I don’t remember much
about crossing the
. Everything I say
is a lie.
The night like lavender.
trust me. The shadow
of a raindrop
shoes in the sand. The moon
splits . I can tell you
where they’re buried . Every cloud
someone I love. I’m sorry .
Mamá, the border sur-
rounds us.
I can’t promise anything .
brother the sound of a coin
rattling father
a sheet of memory
the echo .
outlines what’s gone.
. The night is not
a flower.
I write that it blooms. And so it does.
Undocumented Sonnet: Advance Parole
They are letting/not letting me return to Mexico the place that is/isn’t mine
I need to fill out a form to prove/disprove my trip is/isn’t valid
The goal of immigrant paperwork is/isn’t to see/unsee what our humanity
is/isn’t worth If it is/isn’t there I will see/unsee my family
who are/aren’t mine to find out if my blood is/isn’t
image/flesh I can only see/unsee so many pixel hands through Facebook
walk lost streets through Google Earth I will return/leave to this
America where I won’t know when/if how/why where/when
I will be deported Undocumented/illegal
means my existence is criminal
I am a question of morals un-American citizen of distance
Question 1a.: Purpose of trip.
Answer: How much does my father look/not look like his father?
Answer: I want to hold/hold my grandmother’s hand.