Koya photo
By
Susan Bellfield
Interphase
Lean forward and manipulate
the pool. Petri dish the microcosm
to reign selective resistance, change
the genetic tipping point. A world
of delicate disasters.
The fields are tainted, muddied
with patents. Examine the prevailing
westerlies for a trace
of Armani. Absent an iron clad
contract, suits will ensue.
Pastoral pillars with roots. Ears
as broad as a grown man’s thigh, kernels
like braced teeth. Don’t mind
the contaminants—the niblets
are vermin free.
Butter up the cob and fatten
the calf, pen a letter when the cost
becomes too dear. Research indicates
Mother Nature is an obsolete bitch.
The Border
Dust in our hair. Dust
on our tongues. The heat rode
our backs—stung our eyes
like a fever worried
into the hardscrabble.
A promise built with barbed wire—
no oasis this master-planned
sea of monotony.
Someone’s bleached vision
of paradise in the rearview.
We hang a left from the right lane, yield
midnight cowboys the right
of way. Leap off the overpass
and crack our heads
to the white meat. Lock up
the cat when coyotes sing—
brown is a disease
erupting in handcuffs.
We came thirsty. Swallowed
a dream of endless suns.
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