Her swollen face is the color of a cactus bloom.
A thick red seam runs from nostril to lip,
an arroyo crusted over.
She sits on the white-sheeted cot in the hallway
while white-coated creatures scuttle by
like desert creatures in the night.
It is always night when she is there.
Her open eye is sandy and dry,
as if it has not rained in many years.
The injured eye weeps tears
that disappear like water
sinking into sand.
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