Anasazi,

Anasazi,

tucked up in clefts in the cliffs

growing strict fields of corn and beans

sinking deeper and deeper in earth

up to your hips in Gods

your head all turned to eagle-down

& lightning for knees and elbows

your eyes full of pollen

the smell of bats.

the flavor of sandstone

grit on the tongue.

Women

birthing

at the foot of ladders in the dark.

trickling streams in hidden canyons

under the cold rolling desert

corn-basket         wide-eyed

red baby

rock lip home.

Anasazi