Desert Byways
By Christine Howard
Not a place for homeless hikers,
this vast expanse of arid land.
Here the sun takes
no prisoners,
blasts their faces until their skin glows scarlet.

Dries the land until it shrieks
then every thing that's green
withers and dies.
Collapses
into gnarled lumps
or desiccated sand
that adds
its bulk to the scalding wind.

Two men
with a shopping cart
maybe a K-Mart model
or Safeway's,
Any identification worn
by time and constant pushing.

These two,
have escaped the concrete streets
and alleys of Albuquerque.
Escaped those terrors of the mind
old war wounds opened with the chop, chop of a helicopter
or a distant sirens whine.
But to what do they escape.
The arroyos and gullies here
are not kind to man.
Desert peace is not peace of mind.
No car will offer succour
to these tattered beings with a shopping cart.

Here, even
the coyote scrabbles
for some morsel that will make a meal.
scrounging around the ruins of abandoned homes
he exposes one dusty scrawny mouse.

Only the cholla cactus
can be found growing abundantly
adorned with magenta blossoms
it repudiates
the legend of the barren desert.
Raises its contorted arms to old sol
welcoming the molten warmth
rained on it day, after day, after day.