june

this was the scariest month, right before i joined the big bad army haha.

Rabbit grass was a silver blanket, encircling our shoulders pressed together
Which, changed by the cricket summer, the rattlesnake moon
Turned red brown with dust.  The condor feather,
And the kite, the hawk are not lifted by the stale heat of June.
Not uplifted, not by any thing.  The spirits that inhabit
The cracks in the red clay dried to skin
Are sleeping, the turquoise sky is masked in soot.
Sing for the rain.  O where have you been?
I have not heard the pipes playing to the crabapple mountains
To the chasms and the stripes in the stones.
Now in the yellow dust dunes swaying are the lupines,
The rain makes red dust streaks in jackrabbit bones.
I look on, but coyote teeth have wreathed my neck since.
The rain makes red pools, heaven's eyes in your footprints.