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desert girl

Haley Artinger

desert girl • Haley Artinger

those skies of Nevada evenings



                                                                                                            my mountains

                                                                                             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


      icy shards

                                  clouds dropping

                                                                                       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.

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