Armageddon, Arizona

A falcon thinks the whole world of its 
tether, resting occasionally on a glove 
attached to the fence. Clouds gallop over 
the mountains, shedding their snow like 
loose summer hair. I see no people 
between leaving and Arizona— but I see 
their signs. There’s a town called Many 
Farms where TB medication was tested 
in the 50s. Several hand-written ads for 
Xbox repair. A stray dog licking the 
plastic from a sandwich. School sits
half-excavated from the rock. You and I 
take turns with the car. I wonder 
where the people are, and if a land
so unforgiving is ever asked