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

 

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