Generic

The American Guatemalan 
i lie about my name 
the door opens 
eyes on me 
the heat intense 
don't look up 
screams 
painful cries 
women 
children 
dark 
 until lights flicker 
the interrogation room 
drills 
 and 
 gun shots 
screams 
pain 
 again 
 and 
 again 
 “MAMA! MAMA!” 
another door 
salvador 
you’re okay 
let’s get out of here 
then 
 he lisps: 
 “they pulled my teeth, john 
 they pulled my teeth” 
in the helicopter 
vacant eyes 
 he cries 
 and 
 he cries 
 glad to be alive 
he's with us 
the guilty 
i fear he'll find out