Hispaniola
On the right side of the line
he envisions
greater things,
his life as a baseball star,
perhaps a house on the hill with a gate,
looking down on all the tourists
who are sunning themselves in the sand.
Left of the Dominican,
in the searing Haitian heat,
she cannot feel her feet,
the fractured concrete ceiling
breaking bones, chalking skin –
a ghost before she is gone.
And from the hovel that was her home
about a half a mile away,
her aunt and brother calling
from the land of the freshly crushed,
food and water coming so they’re told,
coffins too, from the other side
of the border,
being built as fast as they can.
Andreas Gripp
London, Ontario, Canada
UNICEF
