Thursday, April 12, 2007

Dream Job 27:

As evil Albuquerque dwindles
in my rear view mirror I’m reminded
of the dead I’ve left behind, withered
by the blast of sand and heat endemic
to the high desert. Here and there,
among the sharp peaks, the scene repeats
itself in petals strewn to celebrate
the coming of our Lady to the shady

bosque where cottonwood blooms in April.
Alone in the front seat of my imaginary car
I rear back to let the dumb ride pass
into neutral, along the railroad tracks:
what hope I have for the future lies
resolute on the backs of those who’ve stayed behind--
from here in the Ohio wilderness I hear
the rain at night trimming through
the outskirts of Bernalillo county,
I make a pact to observe the loss I feel
every moment I’m away from the steely
shapes that mark my past like branding irons.

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