Spring 2005

INSTEAD OF SLEEPING
Writing from King, Hall, and Mabel Manning Branch Libraries; and Project Hope, Pausa

This brand-new issue of JOT features

• Photography by John Brooks
• And writing from JOT writers

Read work from the magazine! For more information on how to receive a copy of the magazine for $10 or to receive a year of JOT for $25, please call the NWA office at (773) 684-2742

THE LETTER
Esther Vargas

I have counted the days, months,
and years and up until now nothing.
Every day I wait for the immigration
letter since, with that letter, I will
know with more certainty how many
days are left before all my papers are
in order. Above all, I’ll be able to go
to my very beautiful Mexico and see
my family after having been here
nine years. The pillars of my family
are no longer there, but my daughters,
my siblings, and friends I would
like to see are there. I would like to
return and find a dignified and secure
job. I hope some day immigration
procedures change, because there are
too many years of waiting and wishing
for their letter in my mailbox.

LA CARTA
Esther Vargas

He contado los días, los meses y los
años y hasta ahora nada. Todos los
días espero la carta de la inmigración,
ya que con esa carta yo sabría con
más seguridad cuántos días me faltan
para tener todos mis papeles en
regla. Sobre todo para salir a mi
México tan bello, ver a mi familia
después de nueve años de estar aquí.
Los pilares de mi familia ya no se
encuentran, pero están mis hijas, mis
hermanos, y mis amistades que me
gustaría ver. Me gustaría regresar y
encontrar un trabajo digno y seguro.
Ojalá algún día cambien los procedimientos
de la inmigración, porque son muchos
los años de esperar y de
desear su carta en mi buzón.

MENTAL SICKNESS
Charlie Clements

At the window of midnight,
Peering out with eyes of
Burning coals,
He stands in a rigid silence that is
Almost holy to melancholics.

10 ITEMS OR LESS
Janice Powell

I have 1 item, you have 11.
Do the right thing!


A HAIKU
Pennie Brinson

A lot can be said
About a man too proud to
Accept charity.


COAT CHECK
Lolita Hughes

I sat quietly in the coat check area
I sat there for hours
Only one coat checked
I should’ve told them that
Coats was free
I was wasting my time
Sitting in coat check
Thanks
Coat check was finally closed

KISS IT UP TO GOD
Vanessa Ellis

When I was a young girl, my friend
and I ate a lot of junk food when our
parents weren’t around to see us. We’d
sneak off and consume tasty morsels of
popcorn, pretzels, potato chips, and
candy, free from those who would take
our junk food away from us and force
us to eat fruit.

If any of our tasty tidbits dropped
through our hands, we’d pick it up,
perhaps blow it off for good measure,
and then “kiss it up to God” before
eating it. No one ever said why, but
we understood somehow that it was
the only way to eat dropped food.

The process of making our dropped
food edible had to be performed in a
certain way. We had to pick up the
dropped item within seconds after it
had fallen. If the item was on the
ground for longer than five seconds, it
was too tainted for the process to work.
It went without saying that only the
person who dropped the food was
allowed to pick it up. If someone other
than the original owner picked it up,
the food would be tainted with the
new person’s germs. Also, the food
had to be something you could easily
pick up with your fingers. Ice cream
was too messy and was best left where
it had fallen.

In the next step, you actually had to
kiss the item. Lips only, though. No
tasting the object with your tongue.
Immediately after the kiss, the process
called for stretching your hand up to
the clouds while reciting the words, “I
kiss it up to God.” The words, “I kiss
it up to” had to be said quickly, as if
they were one word. “God” had to be
drawn out to at least three syllables. It
was the most important word said.

If done correctly, our food was safe for
consumption. If not, we were cursed
to eat dirty junk, and who knew what
would happen the

© 2005 Neighborhood Writing Alliance