These juxtapositions insisting…..

Spacious apartment….. and texts from mother

“She…….arrested for shoplifting 6 times in Walmart with ___”

New Mexico skies leading to the rediscovery of stars

pushing thru darkness.

Dance alone; kettle squeeling;

A language that looks like angelic writhing.

Every morning……. wake,greet the four directions

pull back the blinds.

Look out on to low income housing,rattle of garbage truck,radios

with Latin music starting low in the distance like a memory

once faded speeds its way down Quapaw painting a picture

of morning and work,family and all the coulors of culture

until if drifts…ghosts and echoes.

I can see the sparks flying from their bones

Heels dragging on street,hands firm on bumpers.

A watercolour of mountains on my refrigerator next to the list

of writers to perform at the Lensic this year.

The tension building 1700 miles away.

Letter stamped and addressed but never sent;

He incarcerated and shitting blood…..

Released near his 43 birthday

I go to therapy,do yoga, study the theories of men on the mind and the human condition.

Sit with windows and door open.. mesmerized

as the sun reflects off the glass table,the wind reminds me how wild

and soothing chaos feels…

and the trees

there are no words for their protection,humor and care.

Press my feet in shoes that push into the dirt of all that surrounds me.

Dust and dried sweat on clothes and skin…..

Mountains expanding consciousness and explaining kin rise before me.