My Brave Mexican Girl

By on Apr 13, 2010 in Poetry

Desert with flowers

She walks across a desert on fire
head held high in the flames
like homicidal poppies

advancing over the mesa, over the milkweed
and the cacti boiling sap.
Smoke cancers the sky

like a hell-cloud inhaling: smell
the burning hair of the cholla                         
and the down of the owl’s clover, see that death

is indigenous, feel the heat  
of the melting anemone, the snapdragon’s hope,
the broomrape’s pride and the wind

whipping in the scorpion weed…
The desert burns like the fields of Heidagger
melting the sands to mirror

but she crosses it, my brave Mexican girl,
collecting larkspur
and blazing stars.

Wild Transitions Contents


Mather Schneider's mother told him he was born in the middle of the night during the worst snow storm of the year. This was back in Illinois. He is now a cab driver in Tucson, which is forty-five minutes from Mexico, in the Sonoran Desert. He has no girlfriend, pet, or university degree, but he has a chapbook, Poormouth, available from Interior Noise Press at His poems have appeared in the small press for about ten years.