Excerpt
"Siege Communiqué"
In Tijuana
they said Juárez
was the pueblo where old
whores went to die, where
25 cents bought flesh
by the river, no
body loved you, Sister
so close to Texas
so far from
Revolución.
Today, they say
you are the cementerio
of hope: the only crop
in your garden of Río
Grande mud is bullets,
is machetes, is
acid baths for bones,
choruses of prayers
from those in torture church.
Hermanita of Perpetual
Sorrow, what flowers
do we hand youwe
who die now too.
We who dangle nude
and burned from bridges,
we who hoped
to see our daughters
run through sunlight, only
chased by waves
not bleeding
yet,
but laughing.