Instead of euphemisms,
attend to our bodies.
The bodies of ICE agents
wrapped in tactical gear,
pounding on doors at night.
The bodies of ICE dogs
straining on leashes,
baring white teeth.
The bodies of fathers and brothers
thrown to the ground,
wrists zip tied behind their backs.
The bodies of mothers and sisters
tossed into vans,
disappeared before dawn.
The bodies of nonbinary folks
shoved into one cell or the other,
flown from one country to another.
The bodies of voters
sleeping in on another
lazy Sunday morning.
The bodies of citizens
kneeling in pews at Mass,
hearing again those eucharistic words,
“This is my body …”
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Paul T. Corrigan teaches writing and literature at Southeastern University in Lakeland, Florida. He lives in the Peace River Watershed, where he walks to work.
Photo by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement.
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