I found your hand, Susana Chávez Castillo,
It was crawling north, somewhere in Arizona.
Right away I knew it was your hand,
It was clutching at a page of poetry.
It was writing in blood on a thirsty desert.
The names of your murderers appeared
Long enough to be recorded by the stars.
No one escapes the justice of the universe.
No one escapes the god of the black spaces.
I found your hand, Susana Chávez Castillo.
I buried your hand in the desert
And it bloomed with thorns, like a cactus.