P O E T R Y

At the Edge of Oblivion

Where the rules of life have no force

Photo by Joseph Corl on Unsplash

1.
The thunderheads appear from nowhere
refugees from the other side of the sky
towering cream-and-gold anvils
flashing with bursts of orange light —
Prometheus with torch in hand
descending from Mt. Olympus
orange fire sizzling in gusts of silver rain

I live where the dust devils spin
far out on the desert at oblivion’s edge
where the rules of life have no force.
My garden is a cactus ocean and
in the changing light and shifting sands
are glimpses of serenity
evanescent and tantalizing

When it finally dares to reach the ground
the rain is a soothing balm
a casual patter on the tin roof of my shack
at the abandoned jade mine
where the world holds still for me

2.
An old woman drifted in on a hot wind
settled at the sulphur spring
with two blackened pots and mustard-yellow tent,
daytime, she sculpts animals from grapevines
weaving airy beasts with tangled muscles
and the green eyes of a saguaro cactus

I’ve seen her creatures at night, moving
wild and rangy across the sands
coyotes and serpents of coiled vine
a menagerie of plant and animal spirits
slipping through thick moonlight
eyes of pulsing emerald

Watching from a rock above the mine
I suddenly caught the gleam of her eyes
sea green and shining, watching me
and her gaze stuck with me like a cactus quill
so I hid that night in the adit of the mine
and listened to the sands moving
as the creatures hunted and prowled