You can make the gravy into a train

Stop there, the roux

thick, buttery like wind 

stirring sunlight

in a brush fire smoke

horses hurried into volunteer trailers

when the giddyup frenzy

is hazy and fresh, unsifted ash 

blows like flour over the roses

under a charred rock, a rattler

renders his fat, sizzling, dripping 

snake stock, stirred in airdrop slurry 

fertilizer red powder tamping the blaze

the salt, the anxious Rio Salado

running down the ranchers’ faces

boarding cattle onto the flatbeds, their lives

spent prepared for this round up

Juanita, in the kitchen, readies for 

evacuation: the peppers, minced thyme

the smudging sage, loaded in her

1978 Ford Pinto Runabout painted locomotive black 

Writers’ Pantry #26: “You can make anything by writing”