What’s taken in of us,
by you, asked to be there
stuck to your hands,
legs, and face. We all wanted to stay
still, like we’re meant to be,
but all, all can be lost
like our silvery-yellow spines,
our common name
in your tongue: cholla guera.

What drove you to wander here
drives us into you, that hunger,
that love disguised
as desperation—

¿by what logic do you pull
yourself out, like you pull us out
of your skin?

You come and go,
come and go like the sun, the moon,
¿don’t you?

If there is danger,
¿shouldn’t you cast a part of yourself out?
End of daylight, start of exile
like bloodied rags
disposed under siege.

¿Shouldn’t you be asking these questions
before it’s too late?

You should know,
you’re not the only one
who hears the voices
of your legs asking
how they got this far.