It’s as easy as cutting a cord,
to separate the mothers and children—
the ones seeking asylum
from gangs and violence,
so desperate to flee
they’ll risk seizure
by the border patrol
and customs agents who need
at least two officials—
one who grabs the kids,
the other the mothers—
pinning their arms from behind,
to pry them apart
like oysters.
The agents must learn to ignore
the crying and screams.
They have a job to do,
commands to obey
that come all the way
from the top.
Really, it’s as simple as turning a lock,
as easy as pulling a trigger.
Ed Meek has had poems published in The Sun, North Dakota Quarterly, and Plume. His new book, High Tide, came out last summer.
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