Death March of the Yellow Butterflies

As we junctioned from the 85 to the I-8

heading west toward Yuma,

we came upon a patch of yellow flowers

floating through the air; as we saw them

flutter past our window in a chaotic tangle

with the current of air, bodies

swept around the side of our car, I couldn’t

help but imagine a Mexican child –

a little girl resting with her desperate family,

resting under the limited shade the desert

provides for the innocent ones like her –

grabbing yellow flowers from a bush

and releasing them into the wind.

When I began to notice my surroundings,

I realized it was far too late to help her,

as dead butterflies lined the highway

for a hundred miles in each direction.