By Vivi Sojorhn

 

East Texas, hot and steamy, of course..

With judgment of every thread you donned

Every ounce you wore upon those bones, as your family died around you.

Your clear blue eyes matched the blue bonnets exploding from the hills

The lakes remained in your external calm reeling with water moccasins inside.

South was the only other country you could visit when you were young, and again.

A hairstyle was filled with layers of hairspray instead of bees. Still.

Steps onto the sand where boys and margaritas and more boys waited

Your beehive was destroyed by the wind that blew up from the gulf.

That wasn’t the only thing that was destroyed, I bet.

West and West and West from the Rockies to the Redwoods to the land of self-importance.

More pain and loneliness were not resolved by reaching towards mountains

Reaching for the grand waves of water that could be heard in

Collected shells you wore a new persona, and yet all the same you

From bright stars against the dark night, to heavy clouds wrapped around your head

North was when there was no place left to run into the woulds

It was just a holding marker of shorter days that lasted too long.

The need for a lightbulb of full spectrum light was no joke

Keeping mushrooms from emerging in your head

The world possessing you blew hard around ice bridges

Still facing the North point was no great desire and there you outran death.

All directions had things for you to learn. You wanted to return to fun.

You ran as fast as you could to that desert for horses and hatch chili stew.

The turquoise and red, where ponderosa pines sweat. This was the center.

Learning new art mediums and from old friends and new ones.

The oldest town in America, a crossroads of art. This was your last center. But it didn’t last.