the scent rising
and whirling on the wind
calling forth my breath
becoming my breath
breathing
through my own ancestral nostrils
calling me forth
to meet the land
to meet the air
the sunlight bouncing everywhere
the turgid texture of maguey
its translucent spines
drawing edges in space
foreground background
a middle space of mystery
where anything could happen
the moisture hidden underfoot
in wild weeds
the weed flowers wild
release their call
their scent calling me forth
from a remembered place
where breath is born
—Lorena
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