My Human Disguise.
He confronted his brother the cactus
After the decades since he’d seen him last.
Both had changed a little, both had amassed
Enough of themselves to say, “You’re still us.”
He pointed at the sand, the distant sun,
The spider, quail, snake, and the pygmy owl,
Almost extinct, and promised all to none.
He heard in the needles the faintest growl.
The saguaro pointed at the empty sky,
Its six hands fixed each on a different star,
As if to say the universe is dry
And begins and ends not here, but not far
Away, where the fires thrive, where cold hurls back
The flames. He left as the desert turned black.
No comments:
Post a Comment