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Song of the Oyamel

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On the other side of this door

You are an oyamel native to the mountains of Mexico

Rising in a cloud forest of sister evergreens
Shedding pollen cones, shedding winged seeds

Our lost wings
                    singly and in pairs.

This is why the monarchs vanish    
Raising sienna-hued colonies longer than my arms

Hibernating in Mexico where it’s hotter in January
                than my front yard, where the red bougainvillea raves

And magnolias             with a mauve rush on paper
And open as though thinking about last year’s novels

Read over the shoulders of garden-strollers

Obey the apostle’s exhortation
And do everything in love.

Source: Poetry (April 2012)

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This poem originally appeared in the April 2012 issue of Poetry magazine

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Song of the Oyamel

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