A smooth satin road unspools
across the corrugated torso
of Nevada in summer morning,
light rising in a state of cloudlessness.
It unfurls through sage-dusted basin
and over juniper-draped range;
its length unwinds and unwinds.
Onto eight soft-shouldered summits,
into alkali flats of as many
high desert valleys, the macadam
takes on a golden patina as it rolls
above the gold of stone-studded foothills.
The ribbon twists into vast landscapes, finding:
the turquoise ore in me, the copper lode in you.
1 comment:
A fine poem, Karla.
Post a Comment