O avocado
that cannot sleep
through the night in its mesh bowl
O Sinaloan lychee
whose brightness confounds
those who harvest and pack it in perforated pails
O ancient peach trees
erupting
in abandoned courtyards
O fat pine splinters
delivered to any corner room
to incite the morning stove
O filaments firing into glass breasts
in every cantina and hovel and stairwell landing
O bright frequency of love
O Tillandsia Eizi spilling lavender
pups from orchid grafts
in supersaturated mountain air
O luminous salts donkeyed
to market in petate mats
under hooded prayer
O anything beyond
my halved oak doors
radiant in its unity
O giving
over to fruit to mineral truths to the glow
of whatever comes next
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