Severance

dream inspired poem
I had my place at the ancient
Colosseum. A seat right up front...
until the horses thundered by
all froth and supple violence
sending shit-mud-water
raining down.

I simply cannot abide. I cast
a final gaze at vacant-eyed
corpses lifting delicate parasols,
colorful, dripping brown.
The spattered faces of my
family, so enraptured.

They did not see the sky
turn to lava, alien drones
opening fire. Do they even
know that they are dead?
I cannot not go back.

Instead, taking up arms, a tired
rebel, adrenaline junkie
lifting sword and shield.
Broken glass, stumbling,
black-toothed railroad ties.

I yield to a stony bank,
rough kneed, blood in my
palm, dusty sandpaper eyes.
Raven, dark winged
shawl bows my head.

And we make our escape toward the
bright forest, where the moon sheds
her clothing on oak, ash and thorn,
yew and cedar, my ancestors.

Death Valley Dreaming

Death Valley

The wind howls across the spine of shale and abraded 
rock ridgelines where Sentinels stand tall in the twilight, 
Gods watching the story of the desert night unfold.
I reach out and touch the lovingly placed stone
whose countenance reminds me of home fires,
moonlit snow crunching beneath my beloved's footstep. 

Am I too safe, too protected in the womb of this slumbering
mountain? Who am I? Bared bones, desert dry skin, with wild hair, blue dress dancing, voice lifted in song: 

Sister Wind, Brother Stone...marry me home...

Reeling starlight peeks through the crevice doorway straight
into my broken heart. It shines coolly down on the desert washes
where hours ago I wandered in the blazing sun collecting
fossils and dreaming of discovering the crescent moon
curve of the magnificent Big Horn sheep, fallen among the 
shattered rocks, creosote scrub and red fruited desert holly.