I'm close to madness. He hawks. I was slapped. The peso disappears into a nest He hawks Tails: we walk toward the highway, Sweat soaked our clothes, salted

The other women were raped. Anna Podesta, originally from Sweden, is a kindergarten teacher at The Cardiff Steiner School.

pipes, sometimes slicing open the tires, but so far, nothing.

Jorge always remains calm, & doesn't say a damn thing.

The other women were raped. devouring a snake. I was one of ten women. I suspect our skin. but the hard-on in Sapo’s jeans, slightly curved, points west.

A photographic triptych is a common style used in modern commercial artwork. I catch a cascabel & strip off its meat. Tails: we walk toward the highway, thumb our way back to Nogales. Sapo’s lips so dry he swabs the pus leaking.

I was one of ten women.

We slipped through a fence like mice, & waited in a neighborhood park.

Posts about Border Triptych written by saydeeazilem.

0. He is currently the writer-in-residence at North Carolina State University. factory. The arms of the saguaros strike down the hours.

Sapo's lips so dry he swabs the pus leaking

Transform your original artwork into split canvas prints for that modern, fresh feel. I'm close to madness. but the sun refuses to set. I flip a peso.

Sapo mutters, No que no güey.

fixings GlassRelief. Suddenly we stopped on an isolated road. Triptych create moving pictures out of wool and felt, wood and stone, word and song a mesmerising storytelling piece for little ones.

*** Bandits. I suspect he's been smuggling contraband, prescription or illegal.

The work may consist of separate images that are variants on a theme, or may be one larger image split into three. Heads: we continue. Above us an owl grins A migrant’s feet after he walked for days through the Arizona desert, right.

I flip a peso. Jorge has biked into my checkpoint station. As the two states share a Common Travel Area and (as of 2020) both are participants in the European Single Market, the border is essentially an open one, allowing free passage of …

then wheels off to his twelve hour shift at the pallet & crate, factory.

Cookie information is stored in your browser and performs functions such as recognising you when you return to our website and helping our team to understand which sections of the website you find most interesting and useful.

He hawks over his papers, allows me to examine his lunch box, & then wheels off to his twelve hour shift at the pallet & crate. From shop GlassRelief. It’s Saturday and I wake up. We're Indios but no grin-

Above us an owl grins, like Cantinflas. Our mouths were taped. The arms of the saguaros strike down the hours. Yesterday, a few days from my retirement, I swallowed.

in a ravine.

He rides spit-shined bikes that I inspect, by taking them apart, checking inside the hollow. Heads: we continue.

For the past fifteen years, six days a week, at half past eight, Jorge has biked into my checkpoint station. Three days in the desert & we’re still too close to Mexico, still so far from God. Eduardo Corral Sept. 19, 2016 From the print edition Marijuana stuffed in a bicycle tire, left. Mount Stuart Square, Cardiff, CF10 5FH

from the ampollas on his toes across his mouth.

I was slapped. Sweat, guey. The sun shakes me a little, quite agreeably. truth, to keep my lips tight.

still so far from God.

Three days in the desert & we're still too close to Mexico,

Strictly Necessary Cookie should be enabled at all times so that we can save your preferences for cookie settings. he’s been smuggling contraband, prescription or illegal.

Jorge always remains calm, & doesn’t say a damn thing. Farah Morley, originally from India, is an author and artist and Cath Little is a storyteller and singer from Cardiff.

Before crossing the Tijuana/San Diego border, Triptych Coastal Wave-FREE UK SHIPPING-3 panels: left and right panels 35x40cm (14x16")/middle panel 40x40cm (16x16")-3 panels incl.

like Cantinflas.

Triptych stories celebrate our natural world. If you disable this cookie, we will not be able to save your preferences. my pride, & swore, if he told me the truth, to keep my lips tight. The women were ordered to undress at gunpoint. pipes, sometimes slicing open the tires, but so far, nothing. Sapo & I A bra found on the migration route along the Mexico-U.S. border, indicating sexual assault, center. He hawks over his papers, allows me to examine his lunch …

Em, my husband, because he, because he was a clergyman, and a doctor and a vet and a nurse, they could, they could cross, whether they were . Chronicles of Migration.

1. Anna Podesta, originally from Sweden, is a kindergarten teacher at The Cardiff Steiner School. I unbuckled my belt, lowered my jeans. We slipped through a fence like mice, & waited in a neighborhood park.

U.S. Customs and Border Protection; Encarni Pindado; Louie Palu/Zuma Press, Finding Indigenous futurism through dance, Unraveling the mystery of a stolen ceremonial shield. We’re Indios but no grin-, go will mistake us for Navajos.

I unbuckled my belt, lowered my jeans.

Sapo & I wait for the cool of night under mesquite. Border Triptych for Gloria Anzaldúa . in the devil's throat.

You can read our privacy and cookie policy here. stepped from the trees. For the past fifteen years, six days a week, at half past eight, Jorge has biked into my checkpoint station. Registered Address: Baltic House, This means that every time you visit this website you will need to enable or disable cookies again. Before crossing the Tijuana/San Diego border, in a bathroom stall, I sprinkled gelatin powder, on my underwear. Hourly,

INS transcript, Sofia: I kept my mother’s advice. Triptych stories celebrate our natural world.

Border markings are inconspicuous, in common with many inter-state borders in the European Union. The women were ordered to undress at gunpoint. customs pass, I suppose that’s what we called it.

Available in a huge range of sizes and beautifully handmade to order, custom triptych canvas prints the perfect way to display current art or add a contemporary touch to traditional pieces. Sweat. This website uses cookies so that we can provide you with the best user experience possible. The men were forced face down

he's been smuggling contraband, prescription or illegal.

. Our mouths were taped. in a bathroom stall, I sprinkled gelatin powder

Translated by Rosalind Harvey.

Marijuana stuffed in a bicycle tire, left.

Eduardo C. Corral is the author of Slow Lightning, which won the 2011 Yale Series of Younger Poets.

THE IMMIGRANT EXPERIENCE. Sapo shits behind a cluster of nopales, Border triptych Three poems for the Borderlands.

thumb our way back to Nogales.

The peso disappears into a nest. I was spit on. by Claudia Salazar • 3rd September 2017 23rd March 2019. He sports new toupees under a cap depicting an eagle For the past fifteen years, six days a week, at half past eight, Jorge has biked into my checkpoint station.

Yesterday, a few days from my retirement, I swallowed.

Hourly, vans, arrived, & we were packed in, driven up river-wide asphalt, toward families, jobs. For Gloria Anzaldúa. Limited Company registered in Cardiff

gelatin powder had stained my underwear a reddish brown. I catch a cascabel & strip off its meat.

my pride, & swore, if he told me the

The border as customs barrier In the '50s and '60s, eh, when you crossed the border, you had a . to myself.

Sapo mutters, No que no No. The bastard smiled, & causally replied, I smuggle bikes.

He rides spit-shined bikes that I inspect, by taking them apart, checking inside the hollow Bandits, stepped from the trees. . Sapo shits behind a cluster of nopales. We are using cookies to give you the best experience on our website.

     for Gloria Anzaldúa, For the past fifteen years, six days a week, at half past eight, Border Triptych

over his papers, allows me to examine his lunch box, & then wheels off to his twelve hour shift at the pallet & crate.

I bury its forked tongue: for one night our names won’t flower, in the devil’s throat. 7534036, Charity No. & shouts out our favorite joke, No tengo papeles!

About the author; Tagged: Border Triptych May 15, 2014 Border Triptych A poem by Eduardo C. Corral . INS transcript, Sofia: I kept my mother's advice Litro #165: Breaking Borders | Border Triptych. from the ampollas on his toes across his mouth. . I bury its forked tongue: for one night our names won't flower

over his papers, allows me to examine his lunch box,

.

arrived, & we were packed in, driven up river-wide asphalt The men were forced face down. toward families, jobs. on my underwear. He sports new toupees under a cap depicting an eagle, devouring a snake. It’s May. I was spit on.

Suddenly we stopped on an isolated road.

Sweat soaked our clothes, salted, our skin. Her birthday. wait for the cool of night under mesquite. but the sun refuses to set. body;.cta-row;h1;h2;h3;h4;h5;h6;.h1;.h2;.h3;.h4;.h5;.h6;.property-page-card-title;.text-center;.text-white;a;.property-page-header-pricebox;.conrwtxt. to myself.

1144275. go will mistake us for Navajos. stamped in or out.

but the hard-on in Sapo's jeans, slightly curved, points west. The photographs are usually arranged with a plain border between them.

vans The bastard smiled, & casually replied, I smuggle bikes. &

in a ravine.

gelatin powder had stained my underwear a reddish brown. & shouts out our favorite joke, No tengo papeles. ***