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Scene, with Etymologies

They say we name what

               we value.

            And the act of naming tends to be,

            if not the first, the foundational of violences.

They say we map what

               we care to find.

                                                                                           ✷

And they need not even say that the inverse is also true.               ✷

They say that the name Texas comes from the Hasinai language:

from the word táysha’, which means “friend.”

They say it was used as a greeting between friends.

And the Hasinai were expelled from the State of Texas in 1859.

And of the tongues that still greet táysha’

there remain just twenty-five.
✷

They say that the US Border Patrol recorded more migrant deaths in the

fiscal year 2021 than in any prior year on record.

       And of the states along this country’s southern border, not one

       maintains a comprehensive registry of the deceased.

       And in just one of the four

       does anyone devote themself

       to the cartography of the forgotten.

                                                                                  ✷

They say that the name New Mexico was first declared on July 12th, 1598, at

the confluence of the Chama and the Rio Grande.

They say that Juan de Oñate y Salazar, who declared it, hoped to find other

riches—others’ riches—greater than those of the Mexica to the south.

And one year later, his soldiers demanded from the Acoma the supplies

necessary to survive the winter.

And when they resisted because ceding to the demand would mean

accepting their own death, Oñate decreed the murder of 800 of the

Acoma, the enslavement of the remaining 500 women and children,

and the amputation of the right foot of the 80 surviving men.

They say that the wounded antelope will keep walking until it collapses in

the sand.

And in 1997 in the city of Alcalde, the Friends of Acoma amputated

Oñate’s bronze foot, still adorned with spur and stirrup.

They say that the name Arizona comes from the O’odham language:

from the word alĭ ṣonak, which means “small spring.”

                           And almost half of the remains scattered across the immense

                           barrier of the desert are found in the territory of the Tohono

                           O’odham Nation.

They say that it originally referred to the Bolas de Plata region, brief pride

of the Spaniards during the first half of the eighteenth century, today a few

kilometers south of the border.

                           And the majority of their deaths are caused by exposure to

                           the elements, exhaustion, and lack of drinkable water.

They say that it’s an official strategy to push migrants into the most

unforgiving territories.

                           And agents are taught to trample the caches of water stashed

                           there by volunteers.

✷                                                                                                                               ✷

      ✷

They say that the name California comes from the Arabic:

.خلیفھ.

They say that it came to us by means of a poet, Garci Rodríguez de Mantalvo,

who in the sixteenth century coined a variant of the world khalīfa to name

an island he invented in one of his novels:

Sabed que ala diestra mano de las Indias ouo una Isla llamada California

mucho llegada ala parte ✷del paraiso terrenal la qual sue poblada de

mugeres negras sin que algun varó entre ellas ouiesse: que casi como las

amazonas.

They say that the Spanish, at seeing it for the first time, thought that the

peninsula of Baja California was an island brimming with riches and

infidels.

And though it’s not an island, children still drown attempting to cross

✷  the hungry furrow that divides it in two.                                         ✷

✷                                                           ✷

✷

They say that it’s the most dangerous body of water in the entire country:

                                                         The All-American Canal.

They say that not even an Olympic swimmer could beat the current.

                                        And the canal is a cemetery

                                        too ephemeral to map.

                                        In Imperial County’s common grave

                                        hundreds of bricks commemorate

                                        its defeated pilgrims,

                                        each Doe a fallen domino,

                                        each buried dream

                                        a snuffed-out star,

                                        the parched sky                                                   ✷

                                        their only witness.     ✷

                                                                         ✷                               ✷

                                                                                ✷

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