There's a poetry reading on St. Patty's Day
in Santa Fe. Promise of blood orange Campari
on the rocks. Intoxication not long forgotten. Keith Jarrett
at the piano on the radio in my car. Head bowed to
the keyboard with the eyes closed...
...Today day laborers wait in the shadow
of Our Lady at the sanctuary, circled by roses filling
vases that never empty. On the steps of the Cowgirl
Hall of Fame, a woman in blue plaid kilt blows into
bagpipes.
I idle at the intersection and study this day
so clear, every outline is illuminated. Thin white dog
tail wagging in a car with Indiana plates. Wispy-
haired toddler waving one pudgy fist.
http://redmountainpress.us/
in Santa Fe. Promise of blood orange Campari
on the rocks. Intoxication not long forgotten. Keith Jarrett
at the piano on the radio in my car. Head bowed to
the keyboard with the eyes closed...
...Today day laborers wait in the shadow
of Our Lady at the sanctuary, circled by roses filling
vases that never empty. On the steps of the Cowgirl
Hall of Fame, a woman in blue plaid kilt blows into
bagpipes.
I idle at the intersection and study this day
so clear, every outline is illuminated. Thin white dog
tail wagging in a car with Indiana plates. Wispy-
haired toddler waving one pudgy fist.
Excerpted from The Shape of Caught Water
available from Red Mountain Press
or directly from the author (505.670.4327)
http://redmountainpress.us/
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