light that day | bright | & the air hot | & meeting bones

of those I would never know en the panteón

speaking Sinaloan Spanish | which has always

been the accent I’ve understood most

despite hearing it least in my life

sígueme he sd | follow me

we must walk | roads unpaved lined

with stones & dust | so much dust

| polvo | of airborne bones &

saguaro ancestors watching us

their shadows trailing us |

as sr Nalo led us past a dried

creek & just over a small hill

& there | a house with no doors

& there attached to this home

the walls of another | walls covered

in hot black plastic | secured with rope

there | the walls of Francisco’s home

what was left of Francisco’s home

now a storage space for another family’s home

aquí el vivió | sr Nalo sd | he lived here |

Rosario after decades of waiting | left this home

& lived with her children | Francisco’s children

from his first family | closer to the center

of el rancho Tetaroba | how los Alvarez

of Arizona dwindled to less people

over one hundred years &

how los Alvarez of Tetaroba

increased & lived in all parts of Mexico

touch these walls | de color colorado

they were the same yr grandfather felt

you feel the heat | they breathe hot

touch these walls | paredes en la frente y la mente

they were the same yr grandfather felt

you feel the heat | they breathe hot

I pocketed a piece of this wall

& later when drunk | way drunk after

getting to know mis primos better

over chelas | I stumbled into the hotel

hot tears in my eyes | dad I sd |

I kept this for you | for all of us

but always for you to keep him

& to remember | always remember

what he did |

| climbing down the drainage of red

rock | sweet minted plants |

Robert | my father | father of five

all born in Arizona | Robert

stops to catch his breath then rips

bamboo from root | clouded

red dust clumps dropping |

this is where he was born

& now we know why | now

we know why & now we can see why