Legacy

When to the desert, the dirt,
comes water

comes momey

to get off the shitdirt
land and move to the city

whence you

direct the work of those who now
work the land you still owm

My grandparents left home for the American

desert to escape
poverty, or the family who said You are

the son who shall become a priest

After Spain became
Franco's, at last

rich enough

to return you
refused to return

The West you made

was never unstoried, never
artless

Excrement of the sky our rage inherits

there was no gift
outright we were never the land's