by allison linville
Driving from the big sky to the desert
sky is impossibly grand for this life.
I have never thought that everything starts
when people say it does.
It starts now
it seems
ends soon
I can feel it, and
I will go ahead and
restart it after that.
There was snow and in the kitchen, we could talk.
Tomato soup.
The art of nice;
the brevity of low.
In April, the desert welcomed
us with its warm,
dry nights and we heated
and walked and learned the
value of sunrise.
Sunrises away, sunrises over lakes.
I never knew it would be so heavy
to run.
And despite your unending effort,
we still moved south
and it hurts, and it hurts.