May 13, 2013

From Lover-Boy in the Desert by John Grey


Cactus taller than a New York Knick,
wind wooly and dry,
alien antennae ears on rabbits,
lizards with skin of clotted beards...
feel like I’m on another planet,
and the mountains, so haunting,
especially at dusk,
where the red’s so pervasive,
I’d be wearing it
if I weren’t so gold already.

I’m sending you a postcard
because I’ve no access to email out here.
Besides, with email, I could be in the next room.
But a card purchased at a Texaco station
somewhere in the Arizona desert,
you really know where the word is coming from.
In this case, out of the hissing mouth
of a rattle snake.
But turn it over.
That’s where the brief,
“Wish you were here” awaits.
And don’t forget the X’s
and the magic word, “Love.”

Tomorrow, I’m booked into the Desert Motel.
They advertise as being wired.
Read the fine print on this card,
I’m wired already.



John Grey is an Australian born poet. Recently published in International Poetry Review, Chrysalis and the science fiction anthology, “Futuredaze” with work upcoming in Potomac Review, Sanskrit and Fox Cry Review.

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