# USA Citizen  Papers, please. Here is my birth card, sir. Stolen, you say? How dare you?! Into the stark room I go— The bright light, The rackety chair, The door locked behind them. Slammed shut, freezing little deer.  The two men  and their clanking gear, Frightening the innocent, The vulnerable, Daddy’s little girl. “What do you do?” “I study.” “What do you study?” I tell. “So you think you’re smart?” What can I say? “If you’re so smart, why cross with stolen papers?” “They are not stolen.” Nothing I say matters. Nothing will convince them. So bored, so cruel— Are they pretending? Is this their fun? Is this the law? Should I be scared? I am. Not of myself. I am scared of the men, Looking and scoffing. And me, alone with them— Behind the locked door, Under the bright light, On the rickety chair. Indignity. Confusion. Erasure. It is their name. They smell for fear. I show them none. _How dare they?!_ Inside, I rage— Yet I shake and shake. I can’t help it. I feel like their prey. A Little deer frozen In the bright lights Of shame Will I escape? Is this the law? Is this justice? Is this just a game? What happens next? Is anyone out there? Or am I alone— With the light and the chair? With this tightening in my chest? Behind the locked door of the United States? Is Freedom just a story? Is Justice just a game? Does anyone care?