Portrait of the Author as a Field Guide Entry

Habitat: Thinks of somewhere she isn’t—
if it’s Alaska, yearns for Spain or Texas;

If it’s Cuba, wishes herself on the subway
headed to the Upper West Side. Rolls hiraeth

and saudade around the tongue,
lets them lodge between teeth and gum.

Family: Hates her father. Hates that he
is half dream and half ghost. Loves her father.

Similar Species: Affinity for reptiles, especially
serpents. Tal vez tipos sin veneno.

Recognition: Includes historical references
like a frightened physician shouting plague cures

across a river to a parish priest in Pasajes
Tendencies towards prepositions and interruptions.

Abundance: Commonly plans to write a haibun
or a sestina, but defaults to a dozen couplets in the end.

Season: Considers privilege and how no poem
she ever writes can be entirely free

of the benefits of white supremacy.
Changes the leaking bucket under the roof

anyway. Three cottonwoods blew down.
One pierced the roof during her first fall in Alaska.

Distribution: Rarely feels at home at home.
Remembers her father was restless, too.