The day they left,
I cursed

wings, those curling thoughts
that took my family away.

Scientists, psychologists,
and soliloquies study

how petrified wood could find its way
from desert Utah

to formerly deserted Minnesota.
So what, I hissed with venom at my friend.

I pissed on the Continental Divide
and cried Dear God,

where will I fall?
East or West?

This was always the question. I
could not wait to wash

off the canyon dust,
but now I wish the red rock

could kiss my skin one last time.
Maybe tomorrow my mind will be made

and I’ll pray as I plunge
Dear God let me be

a bird.



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