Two Poems by Chris Corlew

by Chris Corlew

Grilling in the City After the Kids' Bedtime

dear moon smoke is right under your nose

do you smell fajitas?

can neighborhoods have muscle memory?

a stencil on the sidewalk: 

our neighbor

was kidnapped here

I don’t leave the house without a whistle

I do feel bad that it took the ICE invasion

for me to start knowing my neighbors 

or contribute to the PTA

wind tunnel courtyard of apartment porch gardens

commuter train whooshing loud cumbia sonidera playing

at a graduation party two blocks over

the slam of a metal gate

followed by padding dog paws 

this afternoon I realized I was friends real friends

with other parents at my kid’s school

tomorrow afternoon I’ll buy cups of sliced mango

& coconut with lime juice & tajin from a vendor up on Morse

who’s afraid of the city? 

not those who walk

 A Boat Can Take You

but when I think of where

I don’t think of a place that speaks a different language

dear plovers on the shoreline

you can’t know the meaning of words like deportation

abduction    Gestapo           Klan

then again those who build skyscrapers

treat birds’ migration patterns like workers’ rights pamphlets

like you           dear plovers                I am monogamous

            do you call it               family              in your language?

dear plovers on the shoreline I am perched 

in my kayak & later I’ll be walking the sidewalks

with a whistle around my neck

to shriek the mask off an ICE agent should I see one

& if you procreate this year dear plovers 

your family’s story will be in the independent newspaper

side by side with a story of family separation

a boat can take me to a place of peace

ICE comes into my city with sprinter vans

& takes people to Hell