A mother possum crawled down the chimney
the spring Donny came to us
because both sets of his parents had kicked him out,
the same April after your dad and I divorced
when you kicked a hole in the dining room wall.
The possum was swollen with young
she would later carry, half-grown, on her back
or hanging from her thick, hairless tail.
“An oversized rat with maternal instincts,”
your dad once said.
We are grateful for a homeland that has always thrived
on a glorious array of people and their diverse cultures, histories,
and beliefs. We acknowledge the generosity of the Tohono O'odham
in granting this land on which we learn, teach, celebrate
accomplishments, and sometimes mourn losses.
the dream perfumes all of my days. I go to the post office and
look for stamps with etchings of flowers and fruits so that I can
send letters to the women who loved me in my sleep.
He brings me Glocks
and chocolate mines, a tiny transport plane,
a bomb that looks delicious in its cellophane.
so beautiful as the sun // on the ridge // to be blinding
Dear Mother // I’ve been much too slow to say thank you