Together we ate the dirt at Chimayo.
But that didn’t save you
from what was coming.
We almost missed our flight
getting tortillas from your
favorite place.
You devoured them in the car,
holding the steering wheel,
careening between trying to taste home
and the empty road.
You were skin and bones
that could not be bothered with food.
Growing stranger to yourself.
But that was nourishment
of your deepest roots,
quenching an insatiable thirst,
a longing to merge with the earth.
A desire that would soon be granted.
First appear in Moss Puppy Magazine, Spring ’26