By James O’Leary
After Jericho Brown
A desert has the longest memory of all.
The river finds home cut from its own making.
I own cuts I call home. The river’s making
loss until time shows itself in layers of face.
Time uncovers loss exposed on my rock face—
mesa, tabula rasa, blank slate.
Though flat like a mesa, I am no blank slate.
Thirst runs river salt over my dry, dead scrub--
I scrub salt runs with thirst, that dry, parched river
& girl as an ocotillo grows from weeds.
As a dry boy my legs grew in yarrow weed,
quiet as mesquite curls to cover home.
Hair curled to mesquite, a dress uncovers home.
A desert has the longest memory of all.
This poem was the winner of the Duplex Poem Contest judged by Jericho Brown.