24 Hours B4 Arizona's SB 1070
Doña Rosa left early this morning.
She loaded everything she owned in her car
and said good-bye to us. She went to Utah.
The little girls from the house next door
don't cry anymore. Yesterday, their mothers
took them away. They're heading to Chicago.
The school, up the hill, is empty.
The few children who stayed today
are not coming back tomorrow.
They'll leave with their parents tonight.
Mr. and Mrs. Ramírez left last night.
They planned to drive all night until
they reach San Francisoo. I believe
their children live up there in La Mission.
Don Goyo sold all of his farming tools
and bought a one-way ticket to New Mexico.
He has a son over there. He'll be okay.
Los Pachecos told me they'll leave
as soon as they fix their old Beetle,
and if they can't fix such an old thing,
they'll hit the road anyways . . .
Chucho, el carnicero, didn't open
his carnicería today. I couldn't buy carne
de puerco. I waited for him this morning,
but I think he's gone too.
Rosita, la tamalera, is gone. She used
to stand on the corner selling her tamales
dulces, but l'm afraid she left too.
The church bells didn't toll this morning.
I think El Padrecito left early too. He must
have gone to his small village in México.
Everybody from La Benedición de Dios has left.
They all told me they'll come back soon,
but la pinche SB I070 está cabrona.
La pinche SB 1070 is only hours away.
Man, I have to get out of here.
I need to hit the road too, or else
hasta México puedo ir a dar.--- From Poetry of Resistance
Gerardo Pacheco Matus
©2016 University of Arizona Press