The desert devours everything.
Even the expectation that it devours everything,
spits nothing out
What does an eight year old alone in the vast greys see
in the mirage rising from earth, rock, gravel,
but his grandmother, the ghost of her,
still alive & weeks away, fresh tamales in hand
how does his mouth water for a bit of queso, juice of mango,
the sweet cheek of his baby sister
how does his mouth water for the courage to assure himself
as he assures her in the howling, shadowy night
how dry are his lips that water floods him in nightmares
floods the empty sea of his mouth, naming him Moses
so every desert-walker may safely cross
the border & drink
& drink & drink & drink
the desert devours everything,
even the expectation that it devours everything,
spits nothing out
it devours what it will
spiders weave webs in the skulls of coyotes
a small shoe, flush as the cactus flower
spit out like a fishbone, or
hoisted like a flag, a headstone,
a whole world silent & bright in the dirt.
Heidi Andrea Restrepo Rhodes is a U.S.-born and raised, Queer, Feminist, second-generation Colombian immigrant, scholar-activist, writer-artist, and bruja. Her performances have been seen at San Francisco’s SomArts, the Mission Arts and Performance Project, Galería de la Raza, and other venues. Her creative prose and poetry have been exhibited in the National Queer Arts Festival, and a number of publications.
