Palm Springs, California
Joy stamped into a landscape propelling wind and shelter–
a roof, a Walmart bag, a time to forget.
Take in the waters to sighs of far-off snow. A sliver of a room where oil
evaporates into forgiveness.
Nerves trail into a flower then drift through scorched air once exhaled by dreamless
children: a whistling of karaoke and a car that costs too much.
Driving past bones of dead fish and dead birds. Where the sound of water
begins. Hand-placed stones are a call from a stranger.
Lemon opens aloe, pricks the burn. Rubbing the soft cotton of his chest I feel
the sinking submarine in the sand, walk as if to a microphone and green the lining
of my mind. Walk in a little further, clasp my hands
shake loose the bones that once dragged me under.
It is the long view in a mirror I thought was rippled, but now scatters silence
over a kidney-shaped pool at night.
I am caught in the light of waves reflected on the wall.