My Third Day in the Desert
I hear a buzzing from the electric cables above. It seems to follow me
throughout my walk, almost in response to my movements. I wonder if this is
the sound of a distant neighbor writing a facebook status, or someone on the mesa
posting an angry comment on the latest news article about our nightmare president.
Whatever it is, it unsettles me. I haven't been unsettled by the silence until now. It's the sounds
that interrupt the silence
the maybes of human hands that place one’s aloneness into relief.
I become a collector of feelings. They speak from the surface of every plant, each weed a witness
to someone’s murder. The bruising of the earth like the surface of an apple. I thumb the soft spots,
sniff for rot, roll the dusty flesh against my cheeks before I toss it to the hawks.
Isobel O'Hare is a poet and essayist. She is the author of the chapbooks Wild Materials (Zoo Cake Press, 2015) and The Garden Inside Her (Ladybox Books, 2016). Poems of hers have appeared and/or are forthcoming in anthologies from Civil Coping Mechanisms Press and Black Lawrence Press. O'Hare received her MFA from the Vermont College of Fine Arts, and she has received awards from Split This Rock and the Helene Wurlitzer Foundation of New Mexico. Find her @isobelohare and isobelohare.com