112 Miles from Karnes Immigrant Detention Center, Karnes City, Texas

I think you know, but please don’t mention it,
the smell of wolf willow, chokecherry, sweet broom,
of caged children in foil blankets on cement.

Exhausted women offer empty breasts to babies,
sleep restless as they dream of blood-soaked rooms,
as I think you know—but please don’t mention it.

My baby, practice Handel; I’ll show you where your bow slid.
Tonight I’ll hold you, shivering in your night-dark room,
knowing caged children sleep in foil blankets on cement.

One young mother begged all the way to the bridge.
She was thrown into the river’s gloom.
I think you know, but please don’t mention it.

At home, you drew your bow across the bridge.
In camp, they all got sick: poor food, the cold,
the caged children in foil blankets on cement.

She told the officers within a week she would be killed.
What were we doing at that hour, me and you
as caged children slept in foil blankets on cement?
I think you know, but please don’t mention it.