January 11, 2009


by RC Edrington

hot oil bleeds
from the rusted gut
of a junked motorcycle
like mascara
down a bruised cheek

in the dust
beer bottles scatter
shanks of gold teeth
into the sun

I remember
the bloody bloom
of ocotillo
hemorrhaging against
a cement gray
monsoon sky

& your face
almost forgotten now
like some
sacred language
lost to the wind

*the ocotillo is a desert plant found in the southwestern U.S. and northern Mexico which sprouts bright red flowers in spring and summer.


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