By Gustavo Barahona-López

Letter to the Chupacabra

By Gustavo Barahona-López

You roam the borderlands Searching for your bleating prey. I heard you killed a man once. I heard you are the size of a man. Did the Border Patrol Ever try to stop you? A drawing of you circulated through The tabloid news: slouched back, Razor claws, and sharp-looking hair Shit brown in color though I don’t think the portrait did you justice. Primer Impacto my ass. At night, I would open the blinds To my window fully expecting To see your red eyes waiting for me. If I’m honest, I’m disappointed You were never there. You the missing link, you Abandoned extraterrestrial pet. How scared you must have been To be hunted by us? How many accusations of murder Or livestock massacre Have sullied your name? If you ask me, the real killer is the Border. The real killer is the wall. The real killer is the river. Is the desert. Is ICE. If you ask me, They’ve gulped down more blood Than you ever could.