In Memory

somewhere around 3 beyond

the glow of orange groves

curve roads past Escondido

Among the avocados,

punch of kumquats in spring.

grandpa holds a broom to the sky to show the difference

between a would-be lemon and an almost-grapefruit

shake the leaves

these days talking to plants counts as prayer.

Paris is burning

700 years aflame

Reverberate, says the newscast

as the spyre falls

the wind an exhibitionist.

across the ocean a message,

I’m going to the garden

misplacing my keys I miss the ring

and do not hear from you again.

when the photographs of the black hole emerge

your initial appears awash within the circle

as if a temple to time now past-tense

life is the only way to get covered in mystery

of birth before death.