poems by Rena J. Mosteirin

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Monday, April 11, 2016


Eat dirt and grow roots, Root Hog or Die
spelled out on all the windows in white paint, rainy day,
and there wasn’t anything open in the town, no lunch.
If you baptize her, she’ll name you.

She names each leaf after the horses of the rain,
after the hogs rooting among the dead.
The prince of air shook his wings over you,
rooted to the spot as the words fell

around the shape of the people, and they bloomed.
When the rain stops
the desert smells like heaven. Call her
honeyrose, saguaro blossom, coral bell.

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