this is us at the pivot
green grass & blue sky
twice stamped in our memory

That day you took a picture
& I saw as you saw

wide openings & closings        ordinary clouds
a new country opened in wind & prairie

foreign aridity making a god out of you —

the tomatoes have no taste, you said,
the cucumbers no crispness.
We ate deer meat & sad debts,
you saved me the best.

Dear Ma, I am older than I remember you
I travel with my two kittens
& my future is small & it is mine:

I do not want children
I said to you
but how to say I want your face following me —

Dear Ma, we lie down to different evenings,

the trees out here are bare:

you grow your own tomatoes now
you smile at your harvest.

Dear Ma,
which woods?