Interesting.
As all of your poems, I like this, but something about it is lacking. I feel like it's too "their fault" for my taste. I mean, poems like this do exist and are good, but they're so sour and bitter that they often need a hint of sweetness to make it palatable.
I'm just going to dive in.
In the first stanza, it makes me wonder if the trees were planted for him, or if the trees were just planted after he died with no relation to him. Or even if the trees were actually planted at all, really, since you say that 300 were planted digitally. If you wanted to clarify that first stanza, get out of the passive voice and tell us who planted the trees. I think it would improve the poem.
After this, it seems like your grandpa has no place in the poem, which is disappointing. I feel like he could have been the thing that really brought the piece all together. He's a symbol of the past, and maybe he could serve some purpose as an undercurrent among all this narcissism.
You've got little imagery in this piece, which I feel like is not horrible, but it could benefit from a little lights, camera, action, especially as the piece closes. It's all very straightforward, and while you're good at that, I don't think it's serving the point as well as it could. You know I'm horribly flowery all the time, so don't go that far, but remember that a poem's power resides in its choice of nouns and verbs. You can add imagery without changing too much.
I feel like this review was garbage, so I really hope that you can salvage something useful out of it. My roommate found a mannequin with a broken foot in the garbage, and she spray painted it silver and dresses it up for the seasons. So I suppose something useful can come from dumpster diving. Anyway, happy YWSing, and happy review day!
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