Ts’ulo’ob – Joshua Gage

Let this be the hour
that refugees deport camp guards
who stare at the concrete floor
beyond the chain link of the cages
as their papers are stamped in Spanish
with secret destinations;
let this be the hour
that ICE rifles blister their palms
and nightsticks shatter against their hands;
let this be the hour
that brown-skinned families
drowned on the way north
are resurrected to sip spiced cocoa
with the weeping grandchildren
of border vigilantes.

Let this be the hour
the people impeach the president
and force his migration
from inner city to inner city
to confess his racist inferiority
in ancient Mayan.

Let this be the hour
that children ripped
from their mother’s arms
are called to baptize concentration camps
with gasoline, and forgive
this country’s sins
with a match.

Joshua Gage is an ornery curmudgeon from Cleveland. He is a graduate of the Low Residency MFA Program in Creative Writing at Naropa University. He has a penchant for Pendleton shirts and any poem strong enough to yank the breath out of his lungs.