December 15, 2022
Originally Printed in Edition 5.1
Poem by Anthony Madrid
Children on a Visit
Some kinds of birds are hoppers.
Their research is mainly archival.
Children on a visit are only
good on arrival.
The pecan tree was thrown out of work.
The saguaro was thrown out of class.
Your lecture may not be enlightenment,
but it’ll pass.
Antelopes are not all that interesting.
They look away, they act indignant.
I took a long walk with your mom
When she was pregnant.
Cactus wren drills a port hole,
adjusts, begins to recite.
We spent time at the Hotel Congress,
but never the night.
The catfish has symmetrical openings.
She carries her shoes in a shoe bag.
We didn’t see too much music;
we did see Doo Rag.
We hit a tumbleweed with the Honda.
It exploded into toothpicks.
Just like the fate of our friend
the Archaeopteryx.
The whistle pig is a marmot.
His right there is none to dispute.
“Surplus” is not to say people
can bring their bowls and loot.
The petrified tree in Yellowstone
is wiping away a tear.
Your mom is forty-eight
and I’ll be fifty this year.