In the sunlight in the morning
The cars shine without riders in the chicken coop
On Sunday they dropped off behind us
A ways back into Church the schoolyards emptied
Trying an ambush underneath the swing sets
Down hill from the graveyards
As the fires burned all of Arizona,
And the rattlesnakes took shelter in your yard:
In your yard, there wasn’t any grass,
But there was a pleasantness- the school busses
Lingered after the butterflies and Indians were
Gone-
Liked sundials emptying their throats
Out onto the lawn,
Doubling back in chartreuse holidays,
Their wives as yellow as their summers-
And they made love to her- or they pretended to make
Love to her even after she was gone,
Like paper folded paper and thrown across the lawn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem