I can’t claim cactus
Flowers, eagle-wrecked serpent,
Or any plant that heals.

What goddess of war
Came to me as a boy; dumb,
Summer-sweat wet child?

None. No corn god or
Lake-born warrior, gold dust
Feathered beast claims me.

My world begins all
Dead toenails, and cardboard sleds,
Patas sucias

Coca-cola sweet,
Sunday stewed tripe, red chile,
Fried-egg stink, and her –

Maquiladora,
Mother deity of want,
Metal plates, steam howl

Smoke-tower silos,
Machine, motor, and all parts
All American

She made me more than
Anything the ground could gift
The desert’s night sky.

Excuse me while I
Weep; mass production always
Makes me die – No. Cry.

Everything I know
About the desert, I know
From bones in the sand.

Yes, the dead women’s
But yes, also my mother’s
Walking on and on