Literary

in the swell of the moving shifting bits of I can’t hear anything but the wind running against my neck — moan gargle whisper enough without trembling dig into the cement sidewalk of this or that or open or closed or curbed curling kicking Oh but when I come, I will begin & end in a center nowhere I am an outskirt here in this dream-imagining we are everywhere I am never by myself in a tornado remembering and returning settling & you, the ground tugs closer beneath feet believing mistrusting, maybe, our mass body boulder so that time runs slowly across back shoulders hunched hard around the yielding warm of us gooey not yet ready I think of skin softening in the sunshine again & how everything jogs into stillness just in time

& even if I’m saying something useful I’m not saying anything with a locked jaw cemented with I know until I

—soothed hands & lick across back’s blade & a now belonging in the same place— know we will not fleet when buried somewhere

pulsing molten

a want for soupiness

a choice so clear

I remember how August got caught / hot & salt-soaked in the back of my throat / again I guzzle when I want to gulp the sun our most powerful body hidden behind a smudged sky / morning until dusk recently / still

maybe the cement keeps the earth so cold here / how would we know? how come skin stays blue in a bath tub steaming / soaked soaping / shea-rubbed / still there must not be oxygen on my surfaces again my brown / loud-mouthed / father-born / all of a sudden hidden each day covered / woken / without sun

each morning, sitting in the front room, I have woken up & painted in the sun on a palette I mix shades of daylight / the ones that I know the ones hidden behind bank buildings / man-made metal circuses / circuits florescent-soaked it’s a cloudy day here / again shaded grey / land-burdened / standing still

minutes pass / still lethargic without sun I become unmoving / again wombed / I remember the red in the skin that I know hot / soaked in the solar / lodged between the tissue we keep / hidden

my mother says that our mother is hidden that we’ve made her still / recently I’ve been dreaming of leaving my home / a suitcase soaked in all the down pour from here & a ticket west / I set out for sun move away from what I know I dream of August / red / sticky / again

I’ve only known waiting / a mourning cold / until summer returns again valleys / sanded / in the southwest / or nearby / hidden I’ve only ever believed what I know a city / myself in movement / a day on a subway / so much hung above my head / no place to be still no one asks / where is the sun? I sit next to a window unopened / lying in a bath tub / soaping / relearning warm / soaked

again / I am blue-soaked I know to / dry / bare my shoulders / prepare for sun I leave the front door unlocked / the key on the stoop unhidden / & even though I don’t

look back / I throw one last prayer / into the sky / still BY Stella Binion ILLUSTRATION Leslie Benavides DESIGN Ella Rosenblatt

new skin / February-kept hard-shelled over / tight zygomatic / the swollen fruits of my face Savannah / shallow with water low / pulls her body in as a buoy

I’ve dreamt of Lake Michigan monsters in moats around my bed / a shoe lace pull like puppet / at lungs and necks

we all sink further toward spring water floor / littered Papa places his hands in his pocket / a rain hat / a mask tells stories of salt-water storms / five night clubs in Greenwich village a cigarette break in the back alleyway / drag / says lungs could still exhale the smoke then

at the water’s edge I see no break in earth and sky / the in between / my home this land left to what devices / but the ones darting in airfields above ground near souls / in gas masses a stratosphere / over so many material things neon signs / plastic grocery bags / sidewalk trash next to drawn chalk moving beside me as though within all of us oil detonates beneath a current / of which our earth-body / my home did not want

all this sorrow man-made from beauty / a vein poisonous politicized / machined not sure if I’m ready to go but I may / we may in a December-summer / February-skin peeling

I’m soon to be years old / water’s surface melted Savannah-sister and I / a body spilling / a safety hazard in an oiled current a plastic buoy / no boats permitted in years a bottle / a shoelace a lung / a neck

Wife Husband balcony unrailed Daughter age two fiddles a colored-bright plastic ring looped around fingers spinning circles this balcony above Tagus River pours to the Atlantic undisturbed serene the woman fair-featured slight in brassiere and underwear sighing short stories to herself the man dark-skinned older sits shirtless reading a newspaper

Daughter restless in still the woman cradles her walks to the apartment door grasps knob turns turns again begins shaking pushing Husband stands joins her attempt panic ripples the sunny breeze between two parents a building ledge their unsettled infant

Inside Little Boy five sits shaggy matured features mirror baby sister’s television reruns Rugrats Scooby-Doo knocking pounds the balcony door Father’s voice Luca. Lucas! Listening a commercial jingle floats at his back he wonders if he is in trouble Mother has her serious voice listen close follow closely pressing his ear to the small hole of light his sister wailing they keep yelling Key. Key. where? His mother breaths out a path down the stairs the hall toward the kitchen the stool please be careful on the stool look there is a bowl with keys is there a bowl? safety pins and rubber bands like at Montessori Get the keys.

Held-breath silence ears pressed against keyhole the woman rocks Daughter paces balcony edge cautious teetering Chink metal ring looped around finger door pushes forward relief rushes remnants of fear Little Boy steady in stature unconcerned

In New Bedford District Court on Monday, activist Sherrie Andre was found guilty of trespassing and disturbing the peace after participating in an anti-ICE protest in the summer of 2018. They were sentenced to 30 days in jail—the maximum sentence—to be served in the Bristol County House of Corrections. Inside the courthouse, the behavior of those wielding institutional power—the racism of the prosecutor, the apathy of the judge, the violence of the security guards—made shock- ingly evident how the criminalization of peaceful protest is legitimized inside the courtroom.

These charges are the result of a nonviolent direct action organized by members of the FANG Collective, of which Sherrie is a co-founder. By blockading the entrances to the Bristol County House of Corrections, the protest was intended to raise awareness about the horrific conditions inside the facility. The action was held in solidarity with a hunger strike by those detained inside the jail and marked the launch of FANG’s “Shut Down ICE” campaign.

“We are surprised by the guilty verdict, and shocked and enraged that the Judge decided to impose the maximum sentence on Sherrie, despite dozens of letters of support submitted on Sherrie’s behalf by community leaders,” said FANG in a statement. “This harsh sentence is reflective of the violence that the Bristol County Sheriff ’s Department inflicts on people every single day.” The Bristol County House of Corrections has received widespread national attention over its inade- quate food, abusive guards, medical neglect, and lack of mental health care. According to the Boston Globe, the facility is responsible for a quarter of all jail suicides in Massachusetts, despite holding only 13 percent of the state’s jail population. The Bristol County House of Corrections is overseen by Sheriff Thomas Hodgson, who is currently facing lawsuits over the mistreatment of those held inside his facility and who infamously offered up the labor of ICE detainees to build President Trump’s southern border wall.

FANG’s protest was also meant to call attention to the ways in which local sheriffs control and dictate immigration policy. Bristol County is one of three counties in New England with a 287g agreement, which deputizes local law enforcement to act as immigration agents within their jurisdictions. This agreement allows police officers to question people about their immigra- tion status and detain people on immigration charges. Bristol County also has an Intergovernmental Service Agreement (IGSA), a federal contract in which local jails and prisons provide space for those detained on immi- gration charges.

The trial itself was painful and drawn-out. Originally scheduled for January 7 and 8, the first day was inexpli- cably postponed, despite the full preparation of both the prosecution and the defense. Over 100 people showed up in support of Sherrie on January 7, but all were agres- sively removed from the courtroom. Once underway in early March, the trial lasted two full days.

Before the jury delivered their verdict, multiple security guards filed into the courtroom and faced those who had packed the room in support of Sherrie. After the verdict was delivered and the maximum sentence announced, the exclamations of shock, shouts, and audible gasps were followed by immediate and harsh directives from the court officers. All those who yelled out in support of Sherrie were ordered from the court- room. One supporter who refused to move was violently arrested.

In addition to revealing the entrenched power of local immigration policy, Sherrie’s trial highlights the inten- tional way in which the criminal justice system chooses to debate not the brutality of the police or the violence of 287g agreements or the existence of the Bristol County House of Corrections but the technicalities of nonviolent protest. For all those fighting for the freedom and dignity of the people detained in Bristol County, the outcome of this trial is enraging.

“We will continue to support Sherrie in the coming weeks as well as all those impacted by the Sheriff ’s violent policies,” said FANG in a statement. “We will keep fighting to support our community and hold the Bristol County Sheriff ’s Department accountable for their violence.” -SVH