To the Magnolia
Only once have I ever prune you midwinter
It was the year
the fires took the orchard
the floods took the bridge the first flocks
of Sandhills arrived late & slept seldom
Father could remember
my name then would
call me both in English & in Spanish
You hear things things
like people knowing a loved one of theirs
just died a thousand miles away or sons
& daughters burying
their parents while they’re alive still
Maybe they’re the ones you see
walking place to place carrying those
huge godawful shovels
I wonder what time it is