Thursday, April 18

TO A BLOSSOMING SAGUARO

You have kin in Mexico.
Shooting you is called "cactus plugging."
Humidity & wind speed shape the path of a bullet.
Your shadow will outlive my father.
That's kind of comforting.
Ghost-faced bats pollinate your dog-eared flowers
which smell like wet rope, melon.
The sky is a century with no windows.
I say things like that. Sorry.
You have more rights than the undocumented:
I need a permit to uproot you.
Ofelia believes only rain can touch all of you.
My mother is my favorite immigrant.
After her? The sonnet.

(Eduardo C. Corral)