He proudly said
“my name is Francisco”
As he served me
my 3rd glass
of crystal clear water
At my 5 star restaurant
below the border.
And he proudly
proclaimed, and I
agreed
That his country
would never pay
For America’s
border wall.
But he stumbled
against the back
of a chair
As he walked away
in cheap shoes.
I sat long and still
in my chair
Thinking about
how he became he
and I became I.
The holiest way I knew.
And I felt ashamed.
Gil Hoy is a Boston poet and semi-retired trial lawyer who studied poetry at Boston University through its Evergreen program. Hoy previously received a B.A. in Philosophy and Political Science from Boston University, an M.A. in Government from Georgetown University, and a J.D. from the University of Virginia School of Law. He served as a Brookline, Massachusetts Selectman for four terms. Hoy is a regular contributor to TheNewVerse.News. His poetry also has appeared (or will be appearing) most recently in Chiron Review, The Penmen Review, Ariel Chart, Social Justice Poetry, Poetry24, Right Hand Pointing/One Sentence Poems, I am not a silent poet, The Potomac, and Clark Street Review.
