West – Ariel Kusby

A rough place I return to often. The

wildness of blood between my legs. A

savage quiet when the frogs

finally sleep. Heartbreak like hard

candy. Slow orange days slicked down

with aloe. My feet fighting with the sand.

Hammering stakes down. Always

conquering something or other. Ribbons

of fool’s gold under my boots. Eyes

open underwater. Fires burning ancient

forests down to the dirt. The

claustrophobia of open landscape. My

own animal tracks. Deep pockets of

rock. Geothermal pools of hot green

bloom. Static on my skin and in my hair.

The rope trick of thirst. A reminder of

something I’ve forgotten. Woman with a

gun. The blood orange that is darker than you’d expect inside. A body in the

distance. A secret with a heartbeat.

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