wildscape. literary journal

in the country that named the gulf of america
by Kai Thigpen

when ICE comes to your door, burrow
or pounce on them. do not slip and 
do not push your neighbors
down the slope. keep your pronouns
out of your email signature,
keep your hormones hoarded in the back
of the den. keep extra shadows on hand
to cloak yourself in if you want
to stand in the street and hold a sign
that says something like FREEDOM,
something like LOVE. do not say anything
like love. do not say anything
like palestine. have money saved up
in case you need medical care. do not need
medical care. you may not have
money. believe that a vaccine is fatal
while the national guard is preventative.
believe that it guards you, not the nation
from you. believe that our country 
is better than every other 
empire. believe in a christian god 
who saves the most ruthless
and damns the rest. believe, quietly, 
in the food pantry,
the teachers and the doctors
who do not comply, the escaped 
detainees, the encampment
organizers. these are 
your wise woman herbs. open the door
only to the townspeople you can trust
and those who seek healing. do not open the door
unless they have a judicial warrant
signed by an actual judge. if you can,
be quiet. if you can, be loud. 

about the author // Kai Thigpen