New Year’s Eve in Urique, Mexico
The sun dropped behind the lush fading
shadow of the canyon wall.
cowboy hats, boots, dust—
what would the new year bring to Urique?
Tu quieres bailar?
I wasn’t fluent enough to
save myself, groping breath and strong hands
molded me. The river pulsed behind us.
I dripped from his arms and ran
to the safety of the motel.
But the walls are thin in Urique.
How could I see a man’s shadow
in this dark? Form fading
with my screams, the river
pulsed behind us. There’s nothing
to keep the ghosts away down here.
Spirits graze the night, pulling on
the ribs of empty dogs and floating
from mouths too dry to keep them out.
“It must have been a nightmare,” I said.
Maybe they wouldn’t notice
how quickly the canyon had created me.
Brooke Palmer
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