Head-in-Sand Ritual

This entry is part 6 of 8 in the series Rituals


uncanny heat
for the tenth of February

but the creek’s trickle still hits
the right notes after dark

the evening jets rumble
somewhere out of mind

i disturb a sparrow
in the juniper tree

that holds my house close
to its accretionary trunk

and the fluttering of wings
where a heart would beat

tells me to go bury my head
under the blankets

to bed down with the radio
dead air hissing in my ear

and dream a killing floor
of windblown sand

where pump jacks raise
and lower their horse heads

and flare stacks
burn eternally
for unknown soldiers

it’s essential to keep
the necromance young

the lovely refrigerator
humming in my kitchen
depends on it

and the space heater
and the halloween ladybugs

awakening in the walls
too early
with a burning thirst

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