Eduardo C. Corral


To Juan Doe #234

I only recognized your hair: short,
neatly combed. Our mother

would’ ve been proud.
In the Sonoran desert
your body became a slaughter-

house where faith and want were stunned,
hung upside down, gutted. We

were taught

to bring roses, to aim for the bush. Remember?
You tried to pork

a girl’ s armpit. In Border Patrol
jargon, the word