Back to Issue Twenty-Six.

The immigrant drafts a cover letter



i want to prove the island’s ghetto a good birth site for new Americans. i have prepared in all ways available. a grandmother’s last wish before she became an eternal song. i have a line of treasures that bloom in place of my feet. each one rotting in the salt. you said i could call you kin. i am merely here to collect. everything i own is waiting in the car. its engine still warm. i am at your window, America. a wealth of your songs spilling from my tongue. tell me which is your favorite. tell me which star unfolds most brilliant tonight & i will pluck it for you by morning. your ravenous hands demand an offering & i want to afford this life as advertised. a house & a green green garden. unkillable wonderland. children with my eyes & your verse swelling in their mouths. i have catalogued each fruit of my labor & placed them here for you.  i am most desperate in this way & every way i spend my time. all midnight & after. both silly boy & ravenous child.  i have walked toward the dusk & nothing has offered to hold me. this is how i invented new ways to build a city. i do what i must to ward off your winter. i do what i must to be seen. i do what i must to become spectacular again.


Bernard Ferguson is a Bahamian immigrant living in Minnesota. He’s excited to convince you that fall is not that great of a season. He is a two time Pushcart nominee and has work featured/upcoming in Best New Poets 2017, Nashville Review, Winter Tangerine, Raleigh Review and the Rumpus, among others. In September 2018, Bernard will move to New York to pursue his MFA at New York University.

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