PAINT ON CLAY: HOMAGE TO THE MIMBRES



A brave people, who sat up straight

in the grave, with only this perforated

sacred bowl to protect their heads

from the sad hail of dirt clods

dropped by the mourners; and to allow

the curious soul to come and go.


Soul could ride on a grain of sand,

sucked up and whipped around

in a dust devil; or just as happily

fall, in a raindrop’s belly,

to feed their spindly light-green corn;

or drift away and never return.


Here, on a bug’s back, a tiny man is

clutching a spear for balance

as he walks the painted wire.

But look how busy the bug’s legs are!

They gallop in place on the broken-out hole

and it spins like a broken wheel.


                                  



                                                  Salamander 41 (2015)