El Salvador, The Border at 6 A.M., 1984

We are taken to a small room
at the back of the office. A single, black-hooded light
slivers the floor.
I hold you against me,
feel your heart pound.
When I reach for your documents
sweat above my lips drops to my lap,
vision blurs.

Outside, high heels
clip down the concrete floor,
someone laughs,
a door closes.
Behind his metal disk
the officer’s dark face
bends over your papers.
Everything is wrong.
I know this.
In nightmare, we’re unable to move,
my breath a distance away.

Are you sure this is all?
You have nothing else?

No, nothing.
Lies burn through my skin.
Light fingers the edge of the window.

Suddenly, his stamp presses blue-
green ink onto your documents.
He opens the door,
hands me your papers
and over the sill dawn rises
stretching her pale, yellow shawl
everywhere you can see.

---

Lee Varon is a social worker and writer. She is a co-editor of Spare Change News Poems: An Anthology by Homeless People and Those Touched by Homelessness. She is the author of two children’s books: My Brother is Not a Monster: A Story of Addiction and Recovery, and A Kid’s Book About Overdose. Her poetry has been published in various journals.