Río Colorado
Rocío Carlos



Directive: swallow salt

and the sound of it/ the us of breath

the word nosotros.


In a desert valley my kin swallow the river

(the clay floor, the salt lifted up from yesterday)

you stand in the dry bed/ what a word, bed, for graves.


Que suena: son huesos/ es mi aliento

así nacimos en una sequía.

Diluvio: the word we forgot to remember

where floods find us/ cuna lagrimosa


Directive: remember

how each/ other is we

we/we, this/this

this: what hollow what bounty

(in beds— meaning graves)

the abundance of a navel of a collarbone

clavicle you say or your fingers say because

where is the mouth:





Rocío Carlos is the author of A World Below (Mindmade Books, 2014) and co-author of ex her pt (wirecutter collective, 2016). Her poems have appeared in Chaparral and Angel City Review. Selections of her collaborative work in progress with Rachel McLeod Kaminer, Attendance, appear in Cultural Weekly. She lives and works in Los Ángeles.