Kendra Nuttall
There is no playground along the U.S.-Mexico border
Yesterday, Johan took his first steps;
today he wears dress shoes and a diaper to court.
He doesn’t know that American Dream—
the one with purple mountain majesties,
amber waves of grain, and white picket fences.
Pursuing happiness,
someone built a seesaw at the southern border.
Through slats in a wall over an invisible line,
under one spacious sky,
kids got to do what kids do best:
play.
Johan doesn’t know that American Dream—
the one with millionaires in McMansions
and migrants in McDonald’s, low wages
from sea to plasticized sea, spray can cheese,
mass incarceration, mass deportation, huddled masses
yearning to breathe
free.
Johan’s parents were deported to Honduras five months ago.
The judge asks Johan, “What do you want?”
He doesn’t know how to talk,
but a seesaw would be a lot of fun.
Editor’s Note: Johan is the first name of a real-life immigrant whose story attracted media attention in July 2018 when, as a 1-year-old, he was compelled to appear in a Phoenix immigration court after being separated from his father, who had left the United States to return his native Honduras having been led to believe that his son would accompany him.
Kendra Nuttall‘s work has appeared in Chiron Review, Maudlin House, Fearsome Critters, and Eunoia Review, as well as in Utah’s Best Emerging Poets 2019: An Anthology (Z Publishing, 2019). Nuttall holds a BA in English with an emphasis on creative writing from Utah Valley University. She work as a copywriter for Jane.com, and lives in Utah with her husband and dog.
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