Rhadha Marcum

Issue #
September 27, 2015

Prairie Grass and Cottonwood

Celandine light, half-
life, the prairie whistles

this drought, snowless

           out of its tips.

           The sky cannot

come here—no, not a wisp
but starlings

shaking out of

           Celandine light, half-

           alive—if it weren’t

for this, for turning not
to water—

oh the prairie the mountain wait
for the sky to


           All afternoon the heart

drops notches
blue and then bluer.

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