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Click hereslick roads
wind out from her small rock house
into a universe of pecan trees
creeks and bayous
flat-topped hills and
mesquite thickets
where wild turkeys nibble
on seeds they imagine
and even the wind
is a sheer sheet of ice the skunks
stay hidden under shinnery
the armadillos sleep
pit vipers lie in cold rock as fossils
brittle as the quills of
porcupines or
the claws of badgers breathing shallow
misty is going out
to a forest of stars tonight
she wants to get laid
with campfire heat
but more than that
she wants the sterno flame
of unconditional love
this gray foggy crystal night
so full of blindness
hiding
and loss
which an oddly misplaced
meadowlark
will sing about in the morning
[1-6-05]tm
You have a real gift for weaving together physical detail in evocative, moving fashions. It's easy to write this sort of poetry badly, and difficult to do it as well as you do. I particularly loved the wind's small house and the turkeys nibbling on seeds that they imagine. Oddly, the only line I didn't care for was the one Imp liked best. "Sterno," for some reason, kills the buzz for me. But I loved the swift, knowing break from the freezing world to "she wants to get laid."
What really works for me in this poem is that powerful contrast between the icy wind and the heat of desire, made powerful and yet also pathetic by the vastness of the cold around it. It reminded me of a line from Jack London where he describes the world as bare, only the freezing immensity of space touching its surface. There's a fascination to the heat and barreness working against each other.