by Stephanie Cook
We set out
this dog and me
chocolate brown
wet nose love
snuggled deep between
sun bleached blankets
sprawled across the backseat
on the road to our future
at least for this present
Crusted gray
dust-covered mountains
pass us by
forgotten cars
lost to the sun
jut up from the earth
like the bones of our
ancestors from so long ago
Each mile we grow warmer
then warmer still
until the AC gives out
hair matted to my face
tongue drowsily splayed from hers
we are the same
her and I
desperate to keep moving
for if we slow
that great scorching orb
will overtake us
Hours pass under
this unbearable strain
heat crushing us
in ways I know
primordial others have felt
as this oppressive wave
surrounds us
Overcome we stop
at the only roadside motel
solitary in its sandy sea
1970s serial killer vibes
a relic left behind
from a previous life
matted yellow stains and
thick velvet blankets cover the bed
when I sit my body
melds with the fabric
in a moist embrace
we stay until dark
just enough time
to drop the mercury
on our internal thermostats
and leave as the
moon rises
It’s been days since we left home
in search of another
but still the car prods
by night now only
our eastbound desert escape
the pallid moon guides our way
and now trees have reemerged
they line the road so copiously dense
that I’m sure they can barely breathe
She needs to stretch
we pull to the side of the road
and emerge to follow
enmeshed hints of a trail
her leash on, we walk
my camera out
capturing dark shadows
falling in the moonlight
We pass under a stately giant
reaching towards its sleeping god
my hand runs along its rough trunk
then to my nose as I breathe in
the piney, petroleum-scented
resin left behind
a secret souvenir
that will last for days
And as my eyes lift upward
I stop
we are only a few feet
off the road into the forest
but it has vanished,
the forest
and in its wake remain
only stumps
marooned in the ground
edges raw and frayed
sap gathering where capillaries
once extended it skyward
limbs litter the surface
reaching out for their
disappeared bodies
swaths of tire tracks
tear deep through the
sumptuous mat of living earth
It won’t be rich like this much longer
And I weep
I weep for what we have done to this place
I weep for its creatures
I weep for the 900 year old
ancient that’s outlasted
fires and droughts
plagues and civilizations
only to be taken down for a cheap door
corner clearance at a big box store
grain that shows too much whorl
Sensing my pain
she nuzzles into me
her whiskers tickle my hand
she knows what I need
more than I do myself
and I wonder
I wonder how creatures as noble
as her own have come to adopt
my kind
my destructive, single-minded kind
how a being who knows
such innocent love
can want anything to do
with us
But she senses that too
and doesn’t shy away
from my tears
or my sometimes awkward sobs
so we sit together
in this dirt
in this ghost forest
under this moon
as I weep
until the first rays of mourning
reach out to touch their
greatest creation
only to come up empty
and longing
