Diaspora

Afraid is a country with no exit visas

a wire of ants walking the horizon

embroiders our passports at birth

Johannesburg Alabama

a dark girl flees the cattle prods

skin hanging from her shredded nails

escapes into my nightmare

half an hour before the Shatila dawn

wakes in the well of a borrowed Volkswagen

or a rickety midnight sleeper out of White River Junction

Washington boundagain

gulps carbon monoxide in a false-bottomed truck

fording the Braceras Grande

or an up-country river

grenades held dry in a calabash

leaving.