Dreams of the canyon ledge
startle me awake
remembering the elk
whose heavy life
collided so forcibly with my own
as to kill.
And now at a trading post
in Navajo Nation, I cannot sleep
My blood knows the story
of violent, wildish clanking too well.
A knowing that breaks
on a windshield and slumps into
a foggy remembrance
The warmth of home,
now lost to her daughter
Studio works in progress