Adrian Ernesto Cepeda

(when night terrors wake me up medianoche)
I still picture each one of them…

With guns drawn, do they know
this is not an animated video
game? CBP pointing weapons
at my wife California born blanca
Americana “armed” with only
Border Spade, in the garden aiming
at mi esposa while she tends to our
community garden, behind masks,
because of the color of my skin
ice just wants to disappear me,
because I dare to inspire others
to post and publish our resistance
poems, yelling for me, her husband
el Poeta to put the pen down, they
already lost going after the
poets, they are the terrorists
domestic, we— domesticated
Americans, planting seeds,
in the SoCal heat, behind
all of the pounds of uniform
sweat, boot on my neck—
reciting new defiant rhymes,
my wife shaking terrified bare
foot in her once peaceful
garden; no matter how many
goose steppers trample each
cactus, lilacs or roses, will
they ever learn—where ice
melts flowers will always grow.  

February 4, 2026