You have kin in Mexico.Shooting you is called “cactus plugging.”Humidity & wind speed shape the path of a bullet.Your shadow will outlive my father.That’s kind of comforting.Ghost-faced bats pollinate your dog-eared flowerswhich smell like wet rope, melon.The sky is a century with no windows.I say things like that. Sorry.You have more rights than the undocumented:I need a permit to uproot you.Ofelia believes only rain can touch all of you.My mother is my favorite immigrant.After her? The sonnet.

(This poem originally appeared in You Are Here: Poetry in the Natural World.)