by Jessica Molz
At night, the still Mojave breathes a sigh
of heat released: a brilliant umber dusk
tucked low beneath the craggy eastern peaks,
and sun-choked earth spread flat and flush against
an endless, hanging universe. Wrapped snug
between the dirt and sky, a town sleeps well:
a single road enclosed by muggy night.
and then – a cry, a woman’s, splits the dark.
her visage starred with sweat, she welcomes to
this boundless earth another body, wet
and screaming. Mother soothes the hatchling child
with songs of who she soon will grow to be:
a Koyangwuti eidolon, clay soul
stretched tight like canvas over desert dawn.