[Immigration Headline]

ocotepeque, h.n.—I was born in a little town. This was not very long ago. I think I was four five years old. Parents let me do whatever: I looked up at the sun, I loved the sun, it burned a dot in my eyes. Mom was saying we must go catch the bus soon, instead I grabbed a piece of wood & etched it. Sucked it like my own thumb to learn something no one else had. Don’t judge my face. Girls like me. Boys like me with my long hair, I relish it. I love my father very much. More than anybody. He stayed. One morning I come home. He isn’t there. Down the road, this crowd. I drive the crowd away. This is my father, I say. Ask them this thing they allow: his body given to me. I dissect it. Anatomy, my father taught me.