In the orange ozone of blush desert
among slant-faced grasshoppers and lizards,

I’m dandelion disenchantment and
a hymn flickering to firefly heaven.

I’m a diamond girl in a salad bowl,
a page torn out of a landscape, a song

lamented. I am blurred nostalgia.
I am a chameleon, dreaming change.

In the tattered fog of morning glories,
tinkling silver bangles intoxicate

and entice me like hyacinth incense
from my faithful cornfield complacency,

from my straightjacket simplicity days
of middle-aged motherhooded marriage.

I become a table-dancing wildcat,
a nomad of our emerald-green earth.

I become a river-riding cowgirl
and a chinook wind unraveling snow.

I’m a capricious ramble of crooked
corridors — like I used to be in youth.

Then the quiet roar of the garage door
snaps me back to black and white prediction

of wrinkled burlap skin and silver-tipped
medium brown hair of oblivion.
~March 10, 2001


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