three things about idaho
1. false solomon’s seal, 2. trembling aspen (me), 3. vulture (you). the fourth thing is mixing metaphors, but it doesn’t get its own poem.
x
grit-mouth creep-sigg i slink
a clam slurping through sand
and it has not rained
dust-soil pulses up dry,
coats the throat.
work the jaw, squint
gasping through gills
slabs of air
layered, still,
and it has not rained
x
i am streaked with
soot
and dog slobber,
red-bellied turtle slime
and ax grime,
beet-juice bruises
stain my legs
and thick
summer snows of pollen
light sleepily onto my hair
x
mica rock words split and flake
and fall
and, wedged there,
bloom like spores in dark places