no more photographs
of a lone raptor
against the sun
I’ll always love
the ramshackle graves of el norte
covered in paper roses
you might fold a thousand cranes
but never master
the origami of memory
I saw your face
but also the familiar shape of your back
walking away from me
the school girls vaporized
reduced to
E=mc squared
vexing the bride
unveiling
the headstone
the shroud was to hide
the dead
from the envious living
the ocean
no longer recognized me
I’d been gone for too long
and the child tells me:
grandma, you are not a bird
you have no wings to fly
