Poems
by Mark
Jackley
Called In For Questioning
At The Sheriff's Department
sunbeam on the floor
of the waiting room dusty
path through the iron
bars of our wounds
Scattering Ashes
spilling
from our cars,
the spring wind trying to lift us
Investigation
I was the starling-
rumbled maple
you the squad of black
detectives toying with
the witness emptying
drawers a sword of light
from a cracked door how we beamed
galaxy of two
moons orbiting a secret
Tourists, Petroglyphs, Colorado River
hunters too we murmur
chiseling our words
in the sun and wind
as always stalked by time
silence and erasure
under inky crows
screeching in the sky,
sharpening their point
