It was dusk for kilometers and bats in the lavender sky,
And there, not the promised land, but barbwire and barbwire
after a bat said la sangre del saguaro nos seduce. Sometimes
to search for red fruit clutched to saguaros, the ones at dusk
But I never find them here. These bats say speak English only.
clings to my throat, and it’s a tender seed toward my survival:
for water, then spotlights drove me and thirty others dashing
our empty bottles rattled and our breath spoke with rust.
Source: Poetry (January 2016)