Song

Some day the sun will swell on the western horizon
of the day of my life like a blood blister, fierce
and brooding under a heavy nail, and I will come
to this meadow on this mountain in this place
with a name that means horse and sink my fingers
into the rocky soil, into the soil until violets loom
over me like a forest of Chrysler buildings, sink
my taproot fingers a thousand years into the center
of this earth, then awaken in the badlands as a pink
jungle flower, as a lusty tropical bird on the moon
to spread my wings like an awning over soft fruits
in the Phoenix summer and bless the broken hearts
of the school bus full of nuns in their little nun suits
who’ve just learned they’ve been wrong right from the start.

– Jon Wilkins