Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash
Honeymoon highway over muddy
red too thick to run.
The sky bangs open and lifts
up the yells from the old biker who
flipped & cut us off
back in Amarillo.
Along the highway:
scutch bangs hang, a lone buzzy
cane cholla fans out,
an escarpment looms in its distance,
and a sudden flush of violet
blooms at the median’s edge.
Everything else
flies by too fast
to name it,
clinging to this dusty effort
where the Great
American desert
begins to earn that old
terrible name.
Seth Copeland edits petrichor and Cream City Review. He lives in Milwaukee.