A poem from Speak, Cairn:
Plantings in the Eco-City
You’ve arrived during the rainy season
to a soaked bamboo awning, to soaked seedlings
lining a crumbling brick wall. The kids lift
these small trees into the wheelbarrow, name each
as they set it down: hierba luisa, papaya, limón.
How could you know of what can and cannot
be planted? The eco-club kids’ white canvas
shoes somehow spotless. The feet gingerly move
between mud ruts. Your hands, your rubber boots
caked with muck. But what of Mercedes’ hands,
of her bare feet, which jump between the green
beaded pools filled with swimming tadpoles?