Juárez

by Tyler Bigney

Hundreds, some speculate even thousands
of women, dead, decaying in the sand under the
Mexican sun. Good women who never dreamt
of having sand in their mouths. The man on TV
is speaking about some war on drugs, about becoming

a respectable nation for which one can be proud.
I’ve had a good life, but I’m unhappy for
the most part. I’d like to go back and do things
differently, but I won’t get that chance. This
is the real world, Tyler. There is no such thing

as a time machine, so stop staring into the mirror
as if it has the power to transport you.
The man on the TV is running his tongue over
blood soaked lips. There is a stillness. There is a ghost
lurking in the browns of his eyes. There are many.