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you’ve worked so hard
from the farm to the factory
in the county & the city
you’ve always paid on time
for peace of mind
—your body as collateral
so you may rest & retire
when the time came
—knowing you’ll be fine
but somehow
you still owe today
& you are all out of body
Copyright © 2020 by Huascar Medina. Originally published in Green Mountains Review (The American Poet Laureate Series - Edition 1 of 5, 2022). Used with the permission of the poet.
We were lost in the plains,
beautiful and ordinary.
Sunflowers in the fields,
seeds of fallen stars,
standing tall; deeply
rooted in this land.
You have found me
hidden in a wheat field
within a husk of corn
growing for you
I am ready
pick me
Hold me in your hands
remove my skin
peel away my color
find that I am tender
soft and sweet
Don’t call me immigrant
I am the New American
striving in New America
as a New American
I am not your invader
not an animal
nor criminal
I am a just person
just striving
in a New America