Work Text:
nothing gold can stay
not the gold of her hair
not the edges of the Sandias as the sun rises
not even the golden, golden ache of victory
or of love
they couldn’t help it, it’s in our cosmology
-to chase after what beams gold
our cosmos also hold the prehistoric sign of caution
layers beneath this pool of warmth and dazzle
where lavenders sway far in whispers
of a ranch in Montana.
no one escapes the touch of Midas
call out three words from the depths
but so what? he knew then
the words from these sand hills have failed
long before she drove down the Interstate 10
crossing into the sunshine state
with that sunshine state of mind.