Teargas at the Tijuana Border

by Noah Christensen

But then – you notice the lumens

Of grace that linger at the softened edge of imperfect bodies

The stalking weather changes to greet

The weight of stolen blankets

Crooked arms fall asleep,

Dangle toward the face of the watching wall

Draw smothered breath away from the wet moon

Turn soaked poppies over in place

Claw-fingers ridge the spine of hairless stems

Read borrowed biographies

Elicit faint howls for un-fellow travelers who

Navigate the catastrophe of the crossing

Blinding siren before the bombs of teargas are fired

Blighted city on a hill tumbles underneath the soil

Gurgles to surface, again, like a spring

Carving a caravan toward the wide-grinned shoal

Noah Christiansen  2019