We Begin in Joshua Tree
The stars blew across the sky
as if with a great gust

the crystal dome and diamond 
dust. We sat up drinking soju

my back leaning 
against your leg. 

Only the stars against a sky so black. 

I can't make meaning of this
of what drew you toward me. 

You say you don't know.

Good son, magnetic pole. 
Aria of fire and wood smoke. 

Coarse desert sand. 

The way your hand cradled 
the back of my head. 

We returned to the desert 
with the trees gnarled and ash green.

I left before I could write an aubade. 

I dreamt my belly full of pregnancy. 
A clock tower tolling down the hours. 

When you coughed, 
did my stomach deflate?

Did the mirage of the future 
appear fucked and penitentiary? 

Who are you to me? 

Cloud formation in an aura of blue. 
Mole at the center of a lip.

Tonight the rock formations 
will rise while I sleep. 

This one a conqueror.
This one a monument 

to the hope of forgetting.

Out in the field, the wheat stalks
called your name. 

Your hand cupped listening 
to a rustling like the sea.

You ran toward the sound.
Hands were pulling at you, like waves.

Swells growing undulant and fat. 

We cursed the morning 
after seed scatter,

wondered what living thing 
could possibly grow here. 
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