For George Nushida, March 1923-March 1999
Yes, Mrs. Santos, I’m mowing
his lawn this morning.
I had some trouble starting
the mower
But it’s going very well
now. He never wanted
To bother me to help him
before
So this is the first time
I’ve traced his feet around this yard.
It seems like he set the
blade to cut
The centipede grass very
short, maybe too short.
I’m not going to adjust it.
It’s hard going around the
old mango tree. See?
The ground is all up and
down there
And the big roots he once
tried to cut through still
Lie in the ground like old
friends
He didn’t want to send away.
All over the yard
There are little pockets and
hills
I have to learn about, so I
can get the lawn to look
Real nice. I should have
watched
How he gathered the
cuttings, placed them in a compost
Pile, then sorted it among
the ti
And red ginger plants. I
don’t think I’ll ever learn
How he made this place
The home of his heart, but
his grandchildren
Will come here with me
Each weekend, watching me
try to trace
His arteries rooted into
this land.
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