Didn’t think to say
white stone light cloud lattice
thrown from the overpass
(Something dropped from the bridge falls
to the beach below)
Bodies strewn beneath the stars
beneath rooftop signal beacons
ceiling fans
in hacksaw bungalows
w/cement porches
makeshift gardens in the sand
rusted out pickup truck in knee-high beach grass
salt air
bitter cold & heat
red-dirt plum blossoms
tideflat herons
The mud there smells like the
afterbirth of the universe (& so it is)
junkyard cemetery
set inside a bruised shadow
behind barbedwire
A path of leaves & yellow grass
only there to be tread upon
littered w/jewels (the dust of galaxies
beneath our feet
or in the sky beginning to fade
behind the wheel
just as we crossed the border