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
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