Bait

 

You are thinking about Spiderman

And Mama’s pan de yuca,

But there is no cassava here, only

Broccoli with worms and greenish water,

And you wish you were Spiderman. You would

Catch all the bad guys in your web

And let all the children and daddies go free.

 

You were thinking about Spiderman

And pulling down the tassles on your

Bunny hat to make the ears flap up when

The car door opened before the engine had stopped

And Daddy shouted WHAT THE HELL

As two thick white hands

Smelling of stale coffee and gunpowder

Unclasped the buckle at your crotch

And pulled you from your car seat,

And the hands were attached to a man

Whose face was covered up to his eyes, which

Sparkled with loathing, his middle fat

With thick vest and bristling black weapons,

And he stood you on the driveway

And pulled your arms through the straps of your

Spiderman backpack

And there were more men who looked just the same,

Who smelled just the same,

And he steered you by your backpack like

You were a Big Wheel trike,

Toward the side door of your house,

And he said KNOCK, CALL FOR YOUR MAMA,

SAY LET ME IN.

And you feared the man and obeyed, you knocked,

And you called out DÉJAME ETRAR

But you quietly prayed to the Virgin

Please tell Mama not to open the door. Tell her

The bad guys are here.

You had seen these men outside your school with their

Mirror-window cars and their spider goggles and

Their guns and their silver cuffs that they snapped

Onto Daddy’s wrists behind his back while

Daddy shouted to Mama NO ABRAS LA PUERTA,

The man holding your backpack

Like a dog’s leash

KNOCK, said the man again,

And you knocked again, don’t open it, mama, don’t,

And your stomach hurt,

And the man with the cuffs

Pushed Daddy shouting into the dark car,

¡NO ABRAS LA PUERTA! Daddy

Swearing, saying HE’S ONLY FIVE; LEAVE HIM BE.

While you and the man waited for Mama

And your cheeks stung in the frigid wind.

And thank the Virgin, Mama didn’t open the door

And at last the man said

I GUESS YOUR MAMA DOESN’T CARE.

And you were tossed into the dark car next to Daddy, who

Couldn’t sit up straight with his hands cuffed behind his back,

And there was no car seat for you.

As the car pealed away from the curb

You fell off the seat and cried on the floor.

 

And they put you on an airplane, you and Daddy,

To somplace where the air outside

Doesn’t sting your cheeks,

Push you into a metal house

Full of boys and men who smell bad,

With one potty up against a wall,

And you have to go potty, but

There is no door on the potty, so you cry,

And part of the crying is having to go potty,

And part is relief because

Mama didn’t answer the door

And is not here with you and Daddy in this

stinking, crowded metal place

And now your pants are wet,

And there are no clean pants to change into,

But at least Mama is still at home.

At least she’s safe. At least she’s safe.

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