June 27 Deadwood, SD

 

God has more surprises. The sun is not hot. Stars are

not light. Grass appears to bend, is rigid. I send away

grief. I want change. Want it good; the back forth of

seesawing guilt, the black-white of yearning. The earth

is mud-scarred red and green. This is what desire feels

like, it’s our slow-wicked last chance. From here we can

touch the end of the world, jagged and dull; God is not

finished with us

 

 

June 30 Pierre, SD

 

This is where the blue begins, where the sun clang clangs

against the sky. This is where the storm begins, raw heat

of lightning, the thick brogue of thunder. This is the flat-

black of motion, the blinking of eyes. We are a wayward

thread in a worn sweater, an almost closed door. When it’s

over we’ll be flax-winged and overflowing, we’ll be pock

-marked with stars before we crash to earth.

 

 

by Alex Stolis

 

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