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)
Thursday, April 18
Thursday, April 18
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)