[UN] doc: [Liti] [Mi] gration
There were no puddles
pouring out of the children’s
knees even when the smoke
was highest.
Yes, I can tell you
the clothes tied
to the hair
on the floor moaned
like vacant orchards.
I felt hands
where there were none,
and quiet births
tunneled from the mouths
yawning in the dark.
North was whichever way
the mannequins
were pointing.
by Marcelo Hernandez Castillo
pouring out of the children’s
knees even when the smoke
was highest.
Yes, I can tell you
the clothes tied
to the hair
on the floor moaned
like vacant orchards.
I felt hands
where there were none,
and quiet births
tunneled from the mouths
yawning in the dark.
North was whichever way
the mannequins
were pointing.
by Marcelo Hernandez Castillo
Marcelo Hernandez Castillo was born in Zacatecas, Mexico, and is a Canto Mundo fellow, a Zell post-graduate fellow and the first undocumented student to graduate from the University of Michigan’s MFA program. He’s a Pushcart nominee and has received fellowships to attend the Squaw Valley Writer’s Workshop, The Atlantic Center for the Arts and the Vermont Studio Center. Recent work can be found in Jubilat, New England Review, The Paris American, and Buzzfeed, among others.
