Desert

Look quickly at a speedometer see 90 the how can my body move at such speed

right foot slipping out then back into a sandal the high desert’s graysprigged pale silk dress 
you would wear though it meant death 

small car in a semi’s wake 

keep closed the window a/c blasting knees a woman’s voice froths 
on the radio we must protect liberty meaning free

to infect or be infected of the world not in it 
calling loudly

no one in the room

fingerraked dry hair a faucet’s warm gush dark strands on white porcelain
and outside burned-to-thatch summer gardens

in acidic morning light 
spider silk to blunder through

satisfied you Made Time hurtling toward a coast as the continent slid into brine

First appeared in VOLT