She looked right at me
and over her shoulder
I could see mountains at the feet of the plains
and a desert waiting for me
to coax life
from the parched cracked land
we did not miss the cutoff
there were no tracks laid when we crossed
but the water had not dried
it had been diverted
south and east
I balanced on the levees and kept dry
I could hear the house up the road
the silence of waiting
a creek for each second
settling deeper into the earth
we are immovable but I must move
she looked right at me—
I shouted,
“they filled the valley” and ran through the hallway
the children would have scattered
while she slept dust blew beneath the cracked window
and look, oranges in the trees
poppies in the yard
we left the snow on the pass
she looked right at me and rested her palm against the pillow
the linens were clean and I slept through morning
crops turned like profit
I came to bed and slept hair-trigger through the heat
scales were mounted on the porch to measure the seasons
she rested her palm on the pillow
but I heard the brush rustling
and ran naked out the backdoor
I returned three days later
with a torn shirt and shot in my toe
I watched the dew run the length of the citrus like a lost latitude
while the call for dinner drifted low and human below the wind
I felt the heat of the meat in my stomach
I could eat the dust, and grow fat
I pushed dry seeds into the pillow while she read
I slept against her
folding the linens into my gut
she looked right at me
she had a path but not west
I had one too but I lost it
I lost it sitting indian style on the floor by the bed
staring with my eyes drawn north
in a sky overburdened with stars
I looked to the clouds for rain but there were no clouds
I lost sentences in heaps falling from broken cupped palms
I smelled dust and cattle on the sheets
she did not move
I did not move,
then suddenly I remembered—
“never take no cutoffs and hurry along as fast as you can”
This poem was originally published in Slake No. 4. To read all of the stories from that issue, purchase the issue or subscribe at shop.slake.la.
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West of Olive
Mar 22, 04:26 PM
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