PoetryAloud
Emily Strauss Reads
Magenta CurvesHow do we write about the silence
that falls after we stop following a road, and instead watch the sunset wash over cold mountain defiles where snow clings on the dry rocky cliffs above a desert basin, a sinuous curve of magenta? There are no words in the collected shadows the rising blackness covers our thoughts— we can't write of ghosts in a journal of invisible pages. Instead we sleep with the stars in nights winter-cracked lie huddled on stiff grasses and bare earth long enough to feel the absence of dreams. |