Ranged

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