| DITTY
 You, rare as Georgia
 snow. Falling
 
 hard. quick.
 Candle shadow.
 
 The cold
 spell that catches
 
 us by surprise.
 The too-early blooms,
 
 tricked, gardenias blown about,
 circling   wind. Green figs.
 
 Nothing stays. I want
 to watch you walk
 
 the   hall to the cold tile
 bathroom--all
 
 night, a lifetime.
 ---From For the Confederate Dead QUIVIRA CITY LIMITSfor Thomas Fox Averill
 Pull over. Your car with its slowbreathing.  Somewhere outside Topeka
 it suddenly all matters again,those tractors blooming rust
 in the fields only need a good coatof paint.  Red.  You had to see
 for yourself, didn't you; see that the worldnever turned small, transportation
 just got better; to learnwe can't say a town or a baseball
  team without breathing in adead Indian.  To discover why Coronado
 pushed up here, following the guidewho said he knew fields of gold,
 north, who led them past these plains,past buffaloes dark as he was.  Look.
 Nothing but the wheat, waving themsick, a sea. While they strangle
 him blue as the sky above youThe Moor must also wonder
 when will all this ever be enough?this wide open they call discovery,
 disappointment, this place mythousand bones carry, now call home.
 ---From Most Way Home Return to Top of Page |