Below, a shirtless boy wades into the river. His mother, on a boulder, reaches out. A swallow darts by. Concrete shifts. 

Lift

frida got mad at a dove today, had to dig a hole about it
in the shade of a gambel oak my mom believes is an elm.

look it’s a mango

Straightening to inspect her find, she’d unfurl a trail of lake in her palm, like a fan. Bony-kneed Mom: a water bird, gentle and flightless.

The Wing