Not a tube down,
into a throat.

Not a call
to answer green.

Not a medical bill
we cannot pay.

Not Estela,
pigtails & cadence
of okay mamá…okay papá
w/o either parent.

Not a 20-hour drive
the 3/6 child time
travels w/o answers—
I refute unwitnessed.

Not one more call,
drive, gas pump feeds

which advances
me, which if no one
documents, all is erased.

I love you.

from August

a fire my mind/
entirely a house of cinder in/
a house of cinder


I doubt these empty pockets
could produce a grave
or plot of land
or shovel—my fingers
cannot penetrate this
scorched, mountainous earth:
and always,
there is hunger.