Blink and you will miss her mutinous
retreat. Dill in the kitchen window has wilted
but not quite gone to seed, books are tossed
aside like faulty algorithms meant to solve grief.

The blast that once lifted her finally flagged
and she fluttered to the floor like leaves in a heap
by the mudroom door. She still insists there is nothing
implied by adjusting herself to all this spent chaos

of grey. It is the opposite of metaphor, she says,
a story that isn’t just true, but especially true
in the resonance of hard rain on sage brush
and the wind worrying her ironwood trees.

Image credit:Jason Leung

Sara Clancy is a Philadelphia transplant to the Southwest.  Her chapbook Ghost Logic won the 2017 Turtle Island Quarterly Editors Choice Award. Among other places, her poems have appeared in Off the Coast, The Linnet's Wings, Crab Creek Review, The Madison Review, Misfit Magazine, Avatar Review and Verse Wisconsin. She lives in the desert with her husband, their dog, two ordinary cats and a psychotic cross-eyed one.