Snaking through mesquiteand saguaro, a long lineof jibber-jabber, pink-necked tourists mufflethe words of the Zapotecguide who shows usa geometry of amaranthand maize
we have always plantedin sacred shapes and symbols
A couple is squabblingand teenagers flirtas we troop througha greenhouse of orchidsand damp
we capture the rain aswe always have, and coolin summer with geo-thermal
Outside in the healinggarden, she picks a leaffrom a flowering plant—crushing delicate greenwith her fingers
smell this chepil—a seasoning and vegetablemy people have eatenfor thousands of years
Folks wander and chatwhile she tells the old stories—what flourished and whatremains. Every timeshe says—Oaxaca—
soft syllables floatfrom the back of her throatthen blossom and lingerstill.
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