//You might not know this, but poems are like trees…They let us breathe…In order to have one tree flourish, we must plant more around them.// (align:"==>")+(box:"=X")[//-Ada Limon// ] Each letter in this poem is a speckled ray of light in a forest. Is [[sunshine]] a lingering hug with your beloved in an empty parking lot? Is sunshine the ocean waves swallowing sharpness in the middle of the night? Is sunshine the last plate of pork fried rice I shared with my father before his death? The sun sits on my tongue, waiting for me to birth a poem. Every poem is a new discovery about[[ sunshine]]. The government may pluck this poem from me one day. To prevent uprooting, poets must swim in [[sunshine.]] Only then, will our roots tangle, grow, and connect. Through these words, I will take root in this earth and discover my sunshine. Un-sunshine (1659) V. – Un- prefix (to [[deprive->difficult]] of) The shining of the sun; [[direct]] sunlight uninterrupted by cloud. esp. over a comparatively large area. My [[father]] sat in Florida’s abundance, uninterrupted by cloud. His eyes blossomed yellow and he would sweat sunshine from his forehead.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Leaves settled in beds of grass, they absorbed the sun until they were curled fingers. I discovered loss. Too much sun (poison/death). My mother yelled at him to rake up the leaves— she did everything in the house. Every night he refused to pick up a plate. My mother scraped his bones into the trashcan then chewed ice cubes. The dentist would tell her years later to stop chewing on ice. Her teeth will fall out. Her teeth would eventually fall out. My father would eventually fall out of the lawn chair into a bed of&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;leaves. Dead&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;leaves can float too. I used to let dead&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;leaves rain on me, interrupt the sun, The&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;leaves are caesuras in this poem. Sometimes it’s good to be interrupted by clouds so you don’t get drunk on the sun and fall. Sunshine (1325-) N. & Adj. – The shining of the sun; direct [[sunlight]] uninterrupted by cloud, esp. over a comparatively large area.Sunshine State (1887-), N. – Chiefly with the (a) U.S. (a nickname for) any of several states associated with sunny weather, (now) esp. [[Florida]]; (b) Australian (a nickname) for Queensland To have been in the sunshine (1818-1911, Colloquial) – To be [[drunk]]Sunshine is a cat that bites down on a blue jay’s neck. I remember the day I discovered death. My parents told me: Too much light can lead to poison. Do not stare at the sun. I squirmed atop a frog’s tongue. Here, there is an abundance of sunshine and not enough death. Blots of bird blood baked into the patio. The cat’s iris rips holes in stratus clouds. Afraid of death, I called for my [[mother]]. The bird stopped dead, and the cat jolted into the dirt. The birds who played witness chirped sunshine. My mother threw a towel over the feathered-dead body and sunlight could no longer touch it. My life bathed in Florida suns started with recess. Tetherball was my love language. My umbilical cord into childhood. I bruised my palms to discover love—I played with my friend until her arms turned red (poison/death). Sunshine was not poetry back then. Sunshine was blood and stutters. I swung from a jungle gym for her. Sunburned hands ripped on metal. I fell into a puddle of children and cracked my teeth. My smile never was the same. I stood in abundance next to an umbilical tetherball with a crooked smile. She swam across state borders; abandoned the sunshine we never got to love. In Florida, kids dove into trash cans at the beach. Future cave divers—stay in too long and the metal will become a pot of boiling sunshine. I buried my hands in the homes of ghost crabs and discovered friendship. Sunshine was violence. Light watched the crabs twitch between a thumb and index finger. They scuttled in a bucket of saltwater. My [[mother]] told me I couldn’t take them home, so I dumped them back onto the beach and they scurried to find new sunshine. They dug caverns in the sand and sought refuge from the [[father]] of sun. From his hospital bed, my father held my mother’s hands and they prayed together for the first time. His eyes leaked suns and poured light onto her hands. She told me she believed he would live because they prayed, but he stopped (poison/death), his eyes [[interrupted]] by clouds, the sun bathed his body at his funeral. A red butterfly fluttered around my head. The earth spat roots around my ankles. I was tethered/umbilical corded to his coffin. I did not know sunshine then. The roots shriveled and his coffin sank into the earth. We were severed. I discovered acceptance. Every weekend I visited my mother the red butterfly fluttered to the window and tapped sunshine against the glass.Sunshine-Showery (1830) Obsolete Adj. - (Perhaps) [[cheerful->direct]] in the midst of [[difficult]] circumstances. In poetry, we always turn to the moon. Mary Ruefle says, poets resonate with the moon more because its reflective. Perhaps there is too much light and not enough. My parents and I used to watch the sun dissolve behind the horizon. The sand turned cold between my toes. The clouds twisted to the sun’s last breath. My mother loved to point to the moon, maybe she was a poet too. Even at night, we were not deprived of light. The sun kisses the moon’s surface. Sun / Moon light settles atop ocean waves at night. I could see the sun’s sparkle in my mother’s eyes uninterrupted by cloud / [[interrupted]] by my father. Every grain of sand is a moon, and I carried a bag full of moons into our home. My mother spent the night shoveling moonlight out of her car while my father swallowed beer whole. I slept in the dark and discovered coarse sunshine between my fingers.Sunshine (Old English) Obsolete N., Adj. – A [[mirror]].Shine poetry on me. Without poetry, My skin will shrivel and my teeth will crack. There is an abundance of sunshine these days, so allow me to catch the poetry on my tongue. Poetry is the kiss I shared on Bali shores while ocean waves lulled me to sleep atop grains of moon. Poetry is my mother’s hair falling out, the feeling she lost in her fingers, her face buried in my chest as the words, I’m so lonely spill from her mouth after not seeing her for a month. Poetry is the cat decapitating the lizard that seeks refuge from the sun, its tail wriggles until the moon shines sunlight on suspended dust in the window. Poetry is the family of ghost crabs, sitting pincer to pincer while an alligator yawns. [[Poetry]] is the last text I received from my mother. //Hi Alex,// //Good luck to you and your poetry. Love mom.// //[[Hi Alex.]]// (align:"==>")+(box:"=X")[[...]] At the bottom of a well, sunshine cradles the roots of this poem. A torn photo sprouts from the ground. In this photo, I'm a baby bundled in blankets and my father rocks me in his arms at our kitchen table. He's smiling. Camera flash captured his eyes. One day, these roots will become an izote or a dagger log. It doesn't matter. The branches will tear the photo to shreds like ashes in the wind and we'll exit the well and flourish. //Alex I send you a text.// //I don't know if it went through.// //Sorry I about yesterday.// //We wanted to come and see you.// //I miss you and I. We&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;love you.// //[[Love]]. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Mom.// Poetry is sunshine, uninterrupted by cloud. Let’s bathe in droplets of sunlight so our roots will grow connect tangle flourish inside the depths of the earth.(align:"=><=")[(text-style:"bold")[Instructions On Growing]] (align:"=><=")[''[[Begin->Root 1]]'']