Once, years ago, I went to Arizona. On a whim.  A trip of firsts.




another me
some other iteration
walked out into the desert air
a sere grittiness worked itself
into damp places: eyes, the back
of throat, nose’s delicate cave

I stood beneath sky
larger than heart’s boundary
the particular silences of coyotes, wolves
cultivation of the rampant sun
overhead   no darkness to hide
no corner for shelter  naked

[If you’re enjoying my poems, why not check me – Brenda Joyce Patterson – out on social media: Facebook, Twitter, and my website. Or sign up for my newsletter.]

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