Not...terribly proud of this one. I feel like it could use to be tightened up. I'm trying to move away from the first-person perspective that has sort of plagued my poetry for the last couple months. Not sure how well I pulled it off. Any and all comments to that effect are appreciated.
"Dry"
Bring the heat -
a second skin to shroud the horizon in dust.
A call and response:
sing, cicadas,
trill your stick legs and bead eyes.
Not daring to look back
and not knowing why,
you listen to the rattlesnake buzz -
it speaks in its low hum and hiss,
a song of grasses and endless sky.
Draw the salt up through the dirt -
crystals sprout from hair folicles,
paralyze eyes open wide.
Schrodinger's ghost haunts
the in-between places,
the gap where salt gathers in veins
and in the marrow of bones.
Stretch: a crystal demon,
a pillar of salt
spreading petals skyward.
"Dry"
Bring the heat -
a second skin to shroud the horizon in dust.
A call and response:
sing, cicadas,
trill your stick legs and bead eyes.
Not daring to look back
and not knowing why,
you listen to the rattlesnake buzz -
it speaks in its low hum and hiss,
a song of grasses and endless sky.
Draw the salt up through the dirt -
crystals sprout from hair folicles,
paralyze eyes open wide.
Schrodinger's ghost haunts
the in-between places,
the gap where salt gathers in veins
and in the marrow of bones.
Stretch: a crystal demon,
a pillar of salt
spreading petals skyward.
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