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An Untitled Poem

Melanie Archuleta

Recall sage brush firm and bold rou-

nd yet sticking out. Crisp mountain mist cusps the atmosphere. Red road
& black tar, Mother’s first scar.


I can feel the heat from her core. I
know the spots where she is sore.
Felt them myself once before. Burns
outlive their welcome, bring the
ugliest of scars & remind you everyday
they fall random as a deck of cards:
thumb & flip atop stack, fan down. There.
No relief here while the sun beats down black shade.

       with rapid flow

& I lay my mind to ground red dirt - Mother Earth. I am she, & she, me.


Melanie Archuleta

Cross stitch a rosary around clasped hands.
Criss + cross equal sides; we’re all the same
flesh mesh sealed by scar. Thorn crown
summons frown, & fact of how life began.
Then, guilt weighs in & on. Repeat the next
three sentences. Repent. Recover. It never ends.
O weary eyes, wake my fist—

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