was searching
the family diary to
find some reason
for making
their westerns out
of tomato crates;
on that dead
flower-bed,
before our
porch; they had it
painted fried-eggwhite
& set at least 2 seasons—
rusted, unbent
nails & all—in
a crescent row.
silver
topping
platinum,
arrowheaded-
rocks, kicked.
rolling weeds;
crushed beneath
the hilly weight
to ft. salsedo.
mother held longer
than father, who left
to trail other posses.
exercising his
cocked cross, he
took elsewhere . . .