Postcards from Agave:

Poems I left for the post office.

My fellow poet –

Today I hiked that purple mountain majesty, what an achy earth


Hey, you –

I hum to the radio static on drives now

probably because I obey daily my cravings for fajitas and Coke.

Oh, to eat in pink adobe!


Dearest –

Dusk here is haloed with desert hues, rough yuccas

punctuated across

the landscape soaked in indigo oils, gold

all shades of when it was August –

My eyes trace these rocks.

I lean back in my seat, writing…


Reader –

God, the sky here! It’s as if I am in a cave with a flashlight.

Above me are ancient lights, horoscopes

I wonder what this sky spoke before Spanish?


Darling –

In the café at Marfa, again

Mexican chocolate and earthy drops of latte

the tongue is happy

The winds curve around the mountains as I read

and sip


Dear –

When I go back to the Midwest

I will protest –

borders, aren’t they horizons?


Dear –

How now is our summer of discontent?

It is my fourth day in Texas

the sky is wet denim; a glossy palette of earth

cicadas sun-kissing

the agave blossoms ripe

all in vibrating yellows –


On Monday I will climb down the mountains to swim the Gulf of Mexico

and then I return to Iowa City for the last days of June.


–  By Becca Bright