I\u2019m a little more prairie than you, Mom.
\nGrew up a stone\u2019s throw from winding,<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
forested trails. Trees arched over gravel
\nroads, and the place in the powder sky<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
where their branches met, a cathedral ceiling.
\nYou buried downed birds in shallow graves,<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
in a vacant lot by your apartment. I watched<\/p>\n
a whole deer decompose in a field. Made a school<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
project of her. Every quarter, on my class trip<\/p>\n
to buckthorn country, to the task of weeding-out<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
invasive plant species, I saw the same doe
\nsink deeper into the ground. Drew her outline<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
on a worksheet more and more skeletal
\nwith each visit to her muddy bedside. Mom,<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
you too have watched the seasons change.
\nYour childhood rotted into caretaking,<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
like a sun-bleached cordgrass giving
\nits whole self back to the ground.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
When you were seven, you started buying
\nthe family\u2019s groceries each week\u2014<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
cans of beans stacked in a bike basket,
\ncradled by cornstarch and white flour.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
In elementary school, all my teachers
\nhad the same four-pronged chart<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
of the seasons: spring turned
\nsummer, then a gentle decline<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
into fall and a snowman<\/p>\n
smiling through winter.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Nothing in nature actually follows<\/p>\n
this pattern. A field mouse breeds<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
too many young, swallows
\nhalf of them back into herself.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I’m a little more prairie than you, Mom.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":3533,"template":"","categories":[9,49,119],"tags":[6,206,103,1051,1052],"class_list":["post-3531","article","type-article","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-aquifer","category-literary-features","category-poetry","tag-aquifer-the-florida-review-online","tag-family","tag-jacqui-zeng","tag-natural-order","tag-rural-and-urban-spaces"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n