Poem published in Prairie Fire: a Canadian magazine of New Writing, Summer 2018, Vol 39, No. 2


Mom said we come from the mountain people     in Beqaa valley
and I wonder if all those winds
wrapped her     tumbleweed here

Mom says she will retire somewhere hot
to rest easy and give her skin the sun it needs
to heal new     anywhere but here

The thing about tumbleweeds
is they don’t find their way back

The breeze will clap a goodbye song
against the flag boasted on her    white suburban
home     and she will float along     tumble
spread seedlings and whispers
of the ends of her worlds     while she swells
at the weep of the land which bore her



prairie fire