I'm going to quitobaquito springs
in the back of a truck I'm going
to leave needles in my wake
saguaro priests crowd this dirt road
arms skyward heads crowned
by deathbirds I think the finger
of the gulf left its nail sliver here
to mark the border la frontera
of my secret la frontera of the edge
of an ear, caked with salt, thirsty
trespasser shivering under the cottonwoods.