Shadows along the prairie line,
red skies, haze, coagulation…
there’s winding along a river
made of red boulders, but only
puddles of water. There’s no
relief from the sun for bears
or rattlesnakes gingerly slinking
around cacti–There’s grooves
in the land that hands don’t
need to feel, can’t hide in moonlight.
Nothing to lose, weight of worry
disintegrating with the black,
jagged mass stealing horizon lines,
only carrying a few streetlamps
we can see if we hold our breaths,
focus our eyes on seeing light.