Migrant Milk By Pedro Iniguez They ship out before dawn by the busload. Quiet, sleepy; nodding heads their only greetings. The days really begin on golden midday afternoons— heat blistering, choking, the usual— where their brown hands toil under the chassis of happy, spotted bovine. Slide out the pan and let ‘em drip. They only pause to drink lukewarm water from plastic bottles and they go right back to work. Shifts finally end on ebon nights, the air like a million needles on exposed skin. Then, you take your nightly trip to the fridge, where your soft, rosy lips sip that cool, refreshing milk. The glass goes in the sink, you go back to bed, they get back on the bus, and the world goes on and on for all of us.
Author Bio: Pedro Iniguez has stories and poems published in magazines and anthologies such as: Space and Time Magazine, Crossed Genres, and Tiny Nightmares. He has forthcoming stories due out at Helios Quarterly and Nightmare Magazine. Learn more at pedroiniguezauthor.com.
