dry heat, they say
little comfort to migrants who cross
Sonora to Arizona
a line in the desert
they crossed by night
but nights
in summer
are short, turn
quickly into days
long days
of terrible heat
dry heat
more than two dozen men
and boys
left Veracruz,
land of rain and mango and papaya
making their way al norte
crossed that desert line
to arid land
with no mango
no papaya
only rattlesnakes
thorny cactus
unas pocas horas
said the coyote,
only a few hours
to the highway—
then abandoned them
they walked “The Devil’s Highway”
a land known for heat
dry heat
not for a few hours
not unas pocas horas
but seventy miles
to the highway
two dozen men
and boys
seventy miles from the highway
but
believing it was
close
they moved across dry sand
with one day’s food
and one day’s water
in dry heat
through dry washes
over dry hills
eating cactus
becoming dizzy, nauseous
drinking urine
dying
in 115 degree
dry heat
Emilie Vardaman 