First Vision
Believe that granite is soluble, that
prickly pear yearns for skin and teeth.
Believe chaparral blooms in the brain when
rain wears a cracked arroyo. Believe
jackrabbit scurries over sand to sniff
jagged strips of night, and that these
words sweat dust, that the sky
pours indigo over the desert while
the moon calcifies your thirst.
Second Vision
This is the death of wind,
this is the bone of prayer and taste of tin—
here, thorn pierces the tongue of water,
teeth of dust chews cactus and weed,
heat secretes an enamel shell, heat
lays its eggs in the granite of sand,
here, sky is the bluest shade of fire,
and dew is the fourth mystery
in transubstantiation.
Originally published in Cider Press Review, Volume 1.
