Turner Wyatt
Cut Flowers
The desert is made of dust so fine
it whips into the air at first breeze
and makes a mud as thick as plaster
that dries on first strike of sunlight;
so white it is like chalk chipped
from the peach or salmon wall
and bleached by the sun and washed by the gray
sky building over the Shiprock.
The girl from the city lived in the desert
in an orange apartment with linoleum walls
and a tattered yellow canvas bag on the swamp
cooler maintenance failed to turn on again until May
when the sun could dry a load of laundry in ten
minutes before the sole morning dove could manage
to fix the stick she fetched from the canal–that brought
the San Juan to the farms and swept a Rez dog to its death
pinning it against the rails of the siphono–to her nest
which swayed in the branches that grew from a leak
in the old government provided apartment.
The woman doctor's living room was filled with books
she hadn't read, yet, and plants from the pacific northwest
She could diagnose your transient global amnesia or deliver
your baby but could not tell you which way to turn the bolt
to tighten it on the bicycle she rode to make her thick brown
hair which smelled of sandalwood and palo santo flair across
the white roads a podcast drowning out her broken heart.
She found a way to make it work here, the only childfree
well into bearing years. A whole year, every day she drove up stream
to the town where he left her, bought a frozen dinner and cut flowers,
so that the living room with its white walls was painted red
from roses, pink from snap dragons, yellow-white from lilies
pushing one vase to the edge of the table to make room for yet another
the whole room turning to a maze with flowers of various dryness
either primming up with youthful delight or stiffly sagging downwards
against the dusty dry mason jar.
the apartment smelled of soil, life, and fragrances so poignant
they seemed artificial, in the three-block ‘round neighborhood
cropped up out of the desert sand to make room for the workers
who take care of patients at night.