Larry D. Thomas

The Desert Heat
(far west Texas)

is upon us, scorching our eyes

like the dry heat-blast

of a quickly opened oven.  

 

How even the vultures survive it

is a mystery, their dark swirls

filling the sky like black dust devils.

 

The deer dig scrapes beneath mesquite,

lying down in clouds of dust.

The yuccas thrust their sword-shaped 

 

leaves into the sky, defiant

as Beethoven on his deathbed,

challenging God with his raised fists.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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ISSUE 96
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