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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3715 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Bones steve Williams In the desert, spring is late winter. Blooms of cactus are the flesh of iridescent melons. One blossom caresses her ear as we settle on piles of bleached bones that are plush and velvet. The cliffs behind are iron; the tunnel back is closed. On the femur of a dragon, we stroke as cello and bow, sing the Earth ‘round the sun. These bones are driftwood on black-rock beach; gulls and sand pipers chase wind and wave. Behind our backs, branches remember, pink and white buds appear, bloom, fall to the sand — late winter in the desert is spring. |
