Mom didn’t know, Dad didn’t know
even if they’d run across fences
before, they didn’t foresee my knees
crashing into cactus needles that night
one shoe slipped off. She says Coyote
said I’ll carry him to your front door
myself, Pati. She didn’t know 110 degrees,
saguaros, no compass to run
north when like Colorado River toads
we slid under bushes—officers yelled
¡On your fucking knees! You couldn’t have
known this could happen, Mom.
You couldn’t have. No es su culpa.
No lo es.