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.
Year:
2020
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