In the desert, I observe
plants show how to survive
In the desert, I let my guard down
plants sit patient
In the desert, I entrust the tender bits
Plants are with me as I lay them down
I always ask permission: to leave ragged and sharp remnants of a romantic relationship beside a driveway in the generous pads of a nopal cactus, to “bury” racist, ableist people in their own small underground graves
in my front yard,
on a rocky slope,
under an old oak tree,
to leave unanswered questions and pain borne from an imperfect parental relationship with dancing grasses next to Sandhill Cranes who sing to each other as they glide over the ephemeral water plain
I always acknowledge, always thank
Offer:
kisses,
blood,
water,
hair,
song,
mutual regeneration