The Cerebral Catalyst

Indigenous beer bottle gravesite outside
Unable to bury the truth
Of dark native eyes
Or lithe brown arms
Nor in black, curling hair
And ivory teeth grin
Familial love
In a roomful of strangers
Bound by blood
By dust in the creased seams
Of weathered smiles
And warm ancestral hearts
Adobe walls
Echo with Bingo shout
And dime store glee
My lover at my side
We feed on BBQ
And each other
Our secret laughter
And joy
In glancing affection
And momentary touch
Found in rugged settings
And simple company
Ours
Theirs
And the holy faces
Woven in tapestries
That act as windbreak and shade
To arid desert breeze

We drive by a book
Spine against rock
Open in hymnal
To knowledge lost on ochre road
And broken hopes
Faded in pastel colors
On the concrete bridge we cross,
As Kokopeli dances his history
Between swathes of graffiti
And traces of red soil

______________________________________
Keri Baker has been writing since she was a teenager, and intends to keep going 'til they plant a tulip in her and deem her fertilizer. For the non she is going back to college at the tender age of thirty-three to figure out what she wants to be when she grows up. Circus clown and wild goat tamer have been listed among the possibilities.

Posted 04.11.05

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Site founded May 7th, 2003, by Project Catalyst.
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