The monkey puzzle tree - edit #1

[Todd]

Mercedes, its a cool name for a tree and as a poem title it pulls me in. Here are my thoughts as I engaged with the poem:

I can’t climb the monkey puzzle tree. --This may not be your intent but I almost took this after finishing the poem and starting back through, is I can't deal with my own impending mortality that I am reflecting on in light of the death in the family.
It isn’t just the pointed scales all over
its trunk and branches, tangled together
‘like a mad woman’s knitting’ says Dad.--Not that your saying it here but the tree may be a stand in for the Aunt, or the overall pain and futility in life. I may be reading more into it but there's an Ecclesiastes sense to this struggle. 
I can’t pick out a clear path up
from branch to branch and it’s covered
in white dust that puffs into my eyes
and stings.

Sailing ship captains planted these
all over the Pacific. Their timber made
strong masts in an emergency. --I'm not as much a fan of these three lines they pull from the narrative and feel too much like an information dump. I would consider cutting them and stay close to the narrative by starting this strophe with the next line. Just a thought to consider.
They’re from Chile originally; there are
no monkeys in Chile. This one grows
in my father’s aunt’s front yard. No garden,
no shrubs or flowers, just this tall ugly tree
in the sandy soil beside the estuary, some
marram grass clumps here and there.--This gives a sense of life being an ugly, hard struggle.

My great aunt has died. Relations
are cleaning and sorting her house.
She had bad lungs. Mum says
bad lungs run in that side of the family.
I have nothing to do but wait.--I like this line for its ominous double meaning. There is waiting in the situation and also waiting for the grim inheritance of this genetic payload.
I listen to the whisper of wind
through the tree, watch the cloud--simulating breathing. Like this the image carries the fear.
of dust from the cement works
on the far side of the harbour
make its slow way over the water
towards me.--This is the encroaching death. The mortality of the speaker in front of them.

To me, this was a subtle narrative dealing with mortality. I might be missing some but except for those three lines I pointed out I had no major issues with the execution of it all.

I hope some of this helped.

Best,

Todd