desert girl • Haley Artinger
those skies of Nevada evenings
once it hit six o’clock when the sun
dimmed significantly… the heat, suffocating, paused–
its daily delight of suckingthemoistureoutofanythingandeveryone,
allowing the sky to burn in swirls of smoky pink, yellow, and navy blue, and the mountains, made of fine sand and glass, glowed with a worn violet hue.
I imagined that I’d escape that home I called a hellscape,
wished a w a y
the colors for something bluer in nature and tone and when I closed my eyes I dreamed of viridian forests that spanned as far as I could ever imagine seeing and
silver and light
—then the prickle of a hot breeze against my skin, the last remnant of the day, tortuous as it might have been, lowers me back to the hill of sand.