Near the turn
of the century
I was born.
A foreigner.
On a wednesday.
In a hospital.
I was somebody’s
baby once, then not
Home was there
then. Not anymore.
I could only listen
as my grandmother died
on the other side.
That’s the border,
that’s a refrain.
I plan in days
nowadays, not weeks,
that’s a sign
of age.
I grind my teeth.
I bite my nails.
As of this morning,
I’ve accrued
thirteen hundred
american weeks.
I don’t drink
for pleasure,
not anymore.
That’s a refrain.
I’ve hurt other hurt
That’s a sign
of the age.
I was somebody’s
asset once, then not
anymore. How
values diminishes
over time.
That’s the first age
my dying made sense.
That’s suicidal.
That’s rage.
I drink and can’t seem
to refrain.
I’m compromised
therefore they know
I’m easy to pity credit,
easy to use.
That’s delinquent.
That’s debt abuse.
The american way.
I don’t watch the news
For today is today
I say. No one’s come
to collect. For now
I say I’m not gone.
Not anymore.
Not yet.



*Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) temporarily defers deportation and grants work permits for individuals who were brought to the U.S. as children. The rhetoric surrounding DACA often suggests that economic output is the main reason to preserve the program, perpetuating the good immigrant/bad immigrant fallacy. This November, the U.S. Supreme Court will review President Trump’s 2017 decision to rescind DACA, potentially stripping protections from more then 700,000 individuals.

Ricardo Hernandez