Mom is happy when the deer,

los venados, hop the chain-link fence

and graze in her yard. There’s usually

three does and one buck with strong antlers.

Yesterday, they rested in the shade

of the house. She stood two feet away

but could not bring herself to touch

the closest doe. Of course, our family wonders

if the buck is you, Pop, coming to show

Mom that she is not alone. Meanwhile, I am mixed up

in dreams, a son trying to find a lost father

and a mother he fears losing too.

I live 40 minutes away from her,

which might as well be a moon or a planet away.

When I cannot call, I send my love,

hoping it transcends and bends time, deep

into the dreamscape where we find you and your

branches of horns touching the sky and

Mom, now standing next to you with her hand

that rests tenderly on your neck.