Katherine Fallon
Diana, Sunrise Ranch
We abandoned her grave, seeking
instead the dry valley of hope,
where men hauled water across acres
to wet the roots of deciduous trees
that ought never, in a million years,
have lived there. Then, they carved
a ditch, laid pipes along the cracking
hardpan, and the snakes kept the upper
crust to sun themselves. All rattle, all hiss,
this forging of desert to forest, we created
God anew, and I hardly recognized him
until he was all that we could see:
landscape undulating, warped with heat,
his sheer curtain rustled with wind and we,
praise be, were on the inside of the open
window for once. Funnels of sand swept
through the trench of our settlement
and whipped me for forgetfulness,
for having grown away
from the death of my mother,
who remained, unvisited, elsewhere.
About the writer:
Katherine Fallon’s poems have appeared in Meridian, Empty Mirror, Permafrost, Colorado Review, and Foundry, and others. Her chapbook, The Toothmakers’ Daughters, is available through Finishing Line Press, and her full-length collection, Gold Star, is forthcoming through Eyewear Publishing. Fallon assists in editing Terrible Orange Review, teaches in the Department of Writing & Linguistics at Georgia Southern University, and shares domestic square footage with two cats and her favorite human, who helps her zip her dresses.
Image: Colburn’s Butte, South Utah by Thomas Moran (1837-1926). Watercolor, gouache and graphite on off-white wove paper. 13.8 x 9.4 inches. 1873. Public domain.
