and when it touches down, all the meteorologists call it unprecedented.
I wonder when they stopped watching the news and only reported it. No one remembers
how to cry. Is it true that a single generation of monarchs make the return trip north?
That to step on one will change the future? How then, do I
translate the capsized boats? The shadeless neighborhoods? The wooden boxes
made to hold a child? Some days, I think about pockets
lined with milkweed and hemlock. Other days, I follow an old trail
across Texas to scoop sunflower seeds from my grandmother’s hands.

– Amanda Roth