wildscape. literary journal

Jaime is our featured poet of Issue 5. Below is his poem, and beneath that, a series of questions and responses between Jaime and our Interview & Feature writer, Angela Heiser.

Instructions for Wildlife at the Border
by Jaime Rodríguez

wait your turn
at the crossing

declare all semillas,
feathers, lodo,
unhatched huevos

no singing after midnight
(chachalacas excepted—
  ustedes pueden)

do not eat
plastic bags,
trespass on lawns,
or look suspicious

carry proof of migration
—wingbeat, pawprint,
el olor de la lluvia
  on your fur

smile and say buenos días
even if you are a coyote
especially if you are a coyote

remember:
the fence is for others
not for you—
  until it is

Interview with Jaime

Angela: “Instructions for Wildlife at the Border” begins each stanza with an imperative verb, with the exception of the third stanza. This stood out to me also because it was addressed to chachalacas, birds. What is the significance of addressing these birds differently?

Jaime: The poem borrows the voice of instruction and regulation, so most stanzas begin with imperatives that mimic official language. The chachalaca stanza breaks that pattern intentionally. Chachalacas are loud, communal, and unapologetic about taking up space–they don’t wait their turn or lower their voices. Addressing them differently felt like a small rupture in the system the poem is mimicking, a moment where the rules don’t quite hold.


Angela: Building on that question, you write in Spanish, in the final line of stanza three, ustedes pueden. Why are the birds the exception to the no singing rule? Are birds more free and unable to be regulated than other animals?

Jaime: Birds, especially chachalacas exist outside many of the rules imposed on bodies at borders. They cross freely, loudly, and without documentation. Ustedes pueden is both playful and defiant–it acknowledges that some forms of movement and expression resist regulation. It’s not that birds are more free in an abstract sense, but that the systems designed to control movement were never built with them in mind, and they expose the limits of those systems simply by existing.


Angela: In stanza four the speaker mentions not to “look suspicious” and this intrigues me as the definition of what qualifies as suspicious is constantly changing. What weight does this carry for you, in the realm of otherness and ostracization?

Jaime: “Suspicious” is one of those words that feels official but is completely unstable. What qualifies as suspicious changes depending on who is being watched, who is doing the watching, and what moment we’re in. In the poem, that line gestures toward how bodies–human and nonhuman–are read and misread, often arbitrarily. It carries the weight of otherness, of being marked without explanation, and how easily belonging can be revoked.


Angela: Stanza five is my favorite of the whole piece, with its introduction of the concept of “proof.” This conceit works so well here. What does it mean to you to have proof (of migration or otherwise)? 

Jaime: The idea of “proof” comes from bureaucratic language, but here it’s reframed through the body and the natural world. Wingbeats, pawprints, the smell of rain–these are forms of evidence that can’t be filed or stamped. For me, proof isn’t about permission; it’s about trace. It’s what remains after movement, after survival. Migration leaves marks, even when systems refuse to recognize them.


Angela: As a bilingual poem, Spanish adds context, texture and elements of place that elevate the reader’s sense of what’s at stake. How did you choose which words to write in Spanish?

Jaime: Spanish enters the poem where it feels most embodied or intimate–where sound, smell, or address matters more than translation. Words like semillas, huevos, el olor de la lluvia carry texture and cultural memory that English can’t fully hold. I wasn’t interested in translating everything; I wanted the languages to coexist the way they do in the borderlands, sometimes overlapping, sometimes resisting each other.


Angela: Where can our readers follow you online to read more of your work and support anything you have forthcoming in 2026?

Jaime: At the moment, I don’t maintain an online platform or social media presence. I tend to let the work move on its own, through journals and readers. I’m grateful to places like wildscape for helping create those connections, and I have new work forthcoming in 2026 that continues to explore border ecologies, memory, and form.

about the author // Jaime Rodríguez