El Norte by G. Timothy Gordon

El Norte

They’re not supposed to be this far north
over the line, a space between dreams,
past shuttered pecan farms, clapboard fraidy holes
barred against wind, last green Sinclair DINO
filling-station sign, Homeland Security razorwire,
Paseo del Norte footbridge, privacy gates and homestead fencing,
punched-up in dust and grit among steerage weed and creosote,
Hill Country transplants from deep loam and topsoil earth,
azalea, dogwood, firethorn shrub, green, white, red glow,
come forth from elsewhere as spirits in a hush, as do compesinos
venida a menos
, eyeing food truck gorditas, chalupas, border cops,
el norte, weathered by wind, sand, sun, owning nothing ni de aqui,
ni de alla, here or there, neither cachet of bluer-than-blue
Tex-Mex bonnet and lupine, nor light to shine.

G. Timothy Gordon is the author of Dream Wind (Spirit-of-the-Ram Press 2019). His work has been published in Agni, American Literary Review, Cincinnati Review, among others. He is the recipient of the RiverStone Poetry Prize, NEA & NEH Fellowships, as well as nominations for the Pushcart.