"Nomad," Ella Grant
Uprooted, ever yet, you and me,
And these plans I made
For me and you.
Mountaintop, I will pack my boots, and you in your bright red hat,
And race me down! Our wooden skis rattling like chestnut skeletons.
One day,
All else will fade, and we- you, me- will be bare as bones,
And from your hands, covered in earth, and dirt, and hurt,
Grows a home
An always-moving sliver of sleep,
A crescent moon hung high on the back porch from which we hang upside-down like monkeys,
And I twist to look at you, because in a world of topsy-turvy,
Like the house turned on its head, you are upright and beautiful as ever!
And gravity is a chain that pulls at my hair, and blood collects in my eye sockets.
When we are ready
We will retreat downward
Into the grasp of the desert’s sweaty claw.
Dear, I’d trade it all, the film of memory
Wound tight as yo-yo unreleased,
Trade our wings, our wagons, erase any migratory trace of the Old Life,
And into sand we could sink, and our bones would become sand too,
You, and me, and perhaps this is fate,
Me, and you, deeper now, and I would grab your hand,
And your effervescent, butterflying, unceasing smile,
Stretched East to West,
Still luminous on a face undead.