Monarchs at the Border Crossing

In Tecate, on the U.S. side of the Mexican-

American border, her uncle has two horses,

wild goats that come and go, no more dogs

because the coyotes got them all, field mice

in the walls and in the strawberry garden.

The horses belonged to the woman who had

to go, because she did nothing but complain

about the misters he put in for his big old pig

on his day off. Every year the painted ladies

and monarchs float by in great glitter-clouds

making moonset cyclones above the shed

where the pig lies in the mud. They shimmer

their wings over the strawberry patch wafting

sweet fruity breezes across his father’s land

and across the desert to the wild goats...

From a wide rock of rose quartz that looks

like a banquet table or an altar, you can stand

gazing down on the wall where the monarchs

cross over and back, over and back,

over and back for years above the wall