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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

rhp home

 


ISSUE 96
Not Even Playing

 

cover
contents

contributors

 

right hand pointing

main page

submit