XXThe Hiss Quarterly || Volume IV, Issue 3

ISSN 1556-245X

Martin Willitts, Jr.

Deserts
(Based on the works of Georgia O’Keeffe)

A bleached cow skull
A red Resurrection flower in cactus
The adobe ground of heat rashes
The scorpions hidden in moving sand

These are what I bring

The empty fence posts, tilting.
The wire fence cut & not connected to anything.
The cracked parched ground for miles
The vultures circling for mischief.

This is what I bring to the bedroom.

The empty water pitcher white as sand.
The porcelain hands, parched & leathery.
The dancing motion of the scorpion before stinging.
The sky so white, it blinds, it stings.

This is what the bedroom brings.

Where is the man with his hand shielding his eyes?
Where is the empty canteen of kisses?
Where is the stinger when it strikes?
Why do my hands paint these pictures?

The bedroom brings me.

Calder Teaches

Balance & deception of balance
the spin of galaxies
when in love
space & lack of space, spaciousness
& absence or presence of gravity
the language of color
repeated by colorless, white parrots
his chalk board has numbers
the geography of metal, cut, folded, integral

how balanced is a kiss/ or is it deception?

his words rotate on strings
much like the loss of words
much like the sharp edges of love

if we move one word, one hung moon,
all would fall apart, divorced, out of balance.

XXThe Hiss Quarterly || Volume IV, Issue 3

ISSN 1556-245X

© Martin Willitts, Jr.

© Martin Willitts, Jr.