Copihue Poetry

To be an immigrant is to be marked [always] by the border. 

—Dolmage 27

Hello my name is [Oh beautiful] I come from [for spacious skies] I am running from [for amber waves] if they catch me they will [of grain] and no one survives that.
Hello my name is [for purple mountains] I just turned THIS many. My mother is in [majesties] my father is dead. My brothers and I came [above the] and hopefully one day I’ll become a [fruited plains].
Hello my name is [America]. I come from [America]. I helped you and [God shed his grace]. Please [on thee] want to [and crown thy good] they will [with brotherhood]. Please [from sea] help [to shining] please [sea].

​

​

Previously published in Unlikely Stories.