poem where no one is deported José Olivarez now i like to imagine la migra running into the sock factory where my mom & her friends worked. it was all women who worked there. women who braided each other’s hair during breaks. women who wore rosaries, & never  had a hair out of place. women who were ready for cameras or for God, who ended all their sentences with si dios quiere. as in: the day before  the immigration raid when the rumor of a raid was passed around like bread & the women made plans, si dios quiere. so when [...]