Prairie

They have bound my bones with grass,
wound iron wires round my joints. They have
rent my flesh with iron. They have sown
alien seeds in my soil.

I was an ocean. I cradled wildfires on my breast.

They have strip-mined my flesh. They
have buried me under the weight of wood.
They have ruled my contours straight
with dirt roads and paved roads and gravel.

I was the sea. I was the road for millions of birds.

They have drained me of water. They have
sucked me dry. They have shriveled my flesh.

I give birth to sagebrush and cheatgrass. I
die. I
live. I change.

I give birth to the dust and the wind.


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