Alyssa Sotelo

Te extraño

So much that I would prick 
my sweat droplet on the edge 
of a saguaro cactus, slicing myself
sideways to hear coyotes sing. 

Crisp cloudless skies that 
fill my lungs and my next inhale 
could be nothing but a coyote 
scream behind stark mountains. 

The knowledge that Ajo 
strikes Palo Verde and halves  
Valencia towards Corona,
a plane's descent home. 

Rattlesnake strikes across
power lines as creosote flood
with monsoon. The sweet spicy 
scent I can slurp.

Close the chasm to fill 
a room with raucous laughter 
of contours of faces like mine, 
blood that runs like sand like mine. 

In the place I call home

See how the sun sits still during sunset
burning the horizon with a warm glow
and setting the sky ablaze. 

Thousands of lives have been taken here
In a race to reach a safe place
Only few live to tell their tale. 
Feel the swish of a dry breeze that
sucks the water out of mouths and
spits out the slick sweat on your neck. 

Traveling across this treacherous land
getting lost is easy and being found is worse–
it only takes one small mistake.

Feel the saguaros’ stare, arms reaching
And needles like those on a spindle, 
Daring you to prick a finger. 

They take the bodies they find and send them 
to Tucson. Only there can they try to identify
what was left after the scorching.
See the gleam of a millions of stars, 
slowly emerging, pinpricks of light 
through an endless darkness. 

Colibri will search for your family
and tell them of your fate. At least there is
some closure for those who are found. 

My home is this place 
that has been
Weaponized.
Colonized. 
Demonized. 

But my home isn’t the one we should blame.