A hare slips
into scrub juniper. Sparse snow. Wind
whorls the ear. Music
of the long night.
Time of year when the self loses
What looks out of your eyes
on these nights walking home from work?
When I touch the side of your face, I touch
the ceremony sometimes:
A horsefly dives.
Raven’s shadow crosses slick rock.
Bleached juniper roots surround a flat stone.
We wrote poems, read them out loud, passed
the wind-coiled salted curves
of strata’d sandstone, limestone, grey-green-maroon
oxidation of iron, and ocean-side fossil-crush
of leaf and fern,
back and forth,
lip to mouth, then
back-to-back bowed –
South, East, North, West -
cities of the underworld on the distant broken cliff-face
The colors deepen to blood-orange to night
in the blood.
We stand inside a map of veins
through naked trees.
we were a room of woven roots.
A raven sits on the Vitamin Cottage sign above us
Glass doors open and close for no one
Wind ruffles his head feathers, black beak open
Voice like the scrape of a cold branch against glass
Prophet of the desert’s return
Our dark joy
The "ceremony" in section 2 refers to our wedding ceremony, out in the Canyonlands country of Southeastern Utah.
"Vitamin Cottage" in section 4 refers to a chain grocery store in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Merry & Happy
Upcoming in January
A new short story
(Britain's longest running - and best - sci-fi magazine)
Excellent, Christien - thanks for sharing this. Don @ LilliputReplyDelete
I've found myself coming back to this poem time and again. Stark, evocative, lovely. Thank you for sharing it.ReplyDelete
Thhis is a great post thanksReplyDelete