by M F Drummy
We look forward to the street tacos at Jefe’s. AC blasting, packed. Main Street is like this all summer. Parades, music, food, misters, the flags. We feel American. The John Hancock Tower. The father and son presidents buried side-by-side in the musty tombs of the old white church. The sweet docent—sober Cindy with the cute cut—smiling on the local bus. Graceland and Dinosaur,
floating down the Green River. Nymphs and caddis flies. Petroglyphs on the red rock. Camelback off 84 near the pueblo, a snake of rain. Raking dust in Abiquiú. Wild chokecherries for the priests. We don’t wanna get stuck here, you say. Too many prayers, graves. Cry of the Swainson’s hawk all the way to Chaco. The dust carries us. An endless highway, cobalt, gold in the distance. You
tip your phone on its side while you drive through the canyon, making the weather dance. Screw this, we’re late for winter. Autumn hums here. The cottonwoods and chamisa all aflame. We drink desert water, chew bluestem, spit out catcalls. Pastel on the bone. The earth sweats. Grasshopper, cicada, hypnotist. In Tulsa they drill for meat. If you could touch anything at all it would start with
a whisper from home
a whiff
of before
M F Drummy holds a PhD in historical theology from Fordham University. The author of numerous articles, essays, poems, reviews, and a monograph on religion and ecology, his work has appeared, or will appear, in Allium, Anti-Heroin Chic, Aureation, BRAWL, Emerge, FERAL, Heimat Review, Hibiscus, Main Street Rag, Meetinghouse, Muleskinner Journal, orange juice, Poemeleon, Reverie, Spare Parts, Winged Penny Review, and many others. Originally from Massachusetts, he and his way cool life partner of over 20 years enjoy splitting their time between the Colorado Rockies and the rest of the planet. He can be found at: Instagram @miguelito.drummalino Website https://www.pw.org/directory/writers/m_f_drummy
Little Leaf Literary Journal 