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Saturday, October 18, 2014


she stood there, and there was no war between us
hundreds stood like her, for years

for a little drink, she stood above the toothless grin
of the wildfire line, the hollowed juniper

anticipating nothing in the yellowing distance
I couldn’t say whether we were opponents

she stood there, a hunt, like a smoldering bush,
assumes oppositional forces, strong cuts

unearthing the harvest, salt-hide, brine heart
her honest garment of ash and crosshairs

a wind swept through the canyon
a mediator of meat and museum

rumors of ceremony stretch
across the highline trail, reddening

for Autumn, rippled like a hidden pond
stirred by a velvet spike before the flash

blackening its ankle in the burn, the cutthroat
air betrays its warning, air once angry

who pushed flames through the herd, yawns
and sheds its skin, this is the thirsty hour

what is equalized is distance through briars
and bear grass, she stood there unaware

of the war between us, the minerals in our bones
prayed into the smoke, and then she fell

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