One Poem. One Planet. April 23, 2017
Nothing can happen more beautiful than death.
Inside the coyote’s mouth
is a savage place for a barred owl
Twisting in the wind’s violent tarantella,
the trunk of the blue spruce eventually shatters
Flower shaped and malignant, the tumor blooming in the lungs
will eventually drown a man.
I am trying to understand, Walt.
But how I am to see the hand of a soldier
killed in battle, fingers darkened
and curling too tightly into the palm,
as anything other than a dead star?
–Arlitia Jones, April 23, 2017