Winter Desert Sky, Joshua Tree – a poem by Maryrose Smyth

Winter Desert Sky, Joshua Tree

I swear I saw forever last night
at midnight from my bed
from my bedroom window in our tiny
desert rental but that it could have been
high noon, so full and bright was the moon
out over the desert. I swear there was no ground,
no yuccas, no cacti, no shadows underneath
the yuccas or cacti, no animal carousers, only
blackness and black sharps pointing like fingers
at the distant mountains that I swear looked
like a long serrated knife held up against a throat
of blue as if threatening it, threatening
to free itself in search of a better heaven
maybe but I swear I heard 
no howl at the slide of jagged steel
on celestial flesh but that it left its mark 
along the blade’s edge and in the tint
of wound on the cosmos like the froth
I’ve seen at the seashore that it tipped from navy
to burgundy to lavender to salt white foam
like an ombre chiaroscuro I swear looked
like the sky was bleeding alone
in utter darkness at her demolishment
at the violence but that she held fast
to her mantle so determined was she to birth
stars she tossed about her like they were nothing, like
they were white caps on an open sea and I swear she
pulled her mantle closer around her and to the desert,
dear earth, as if by prior covenant so intent was she
upon protecting what was sacred, this place, this creature
pleasure, this minute, this hour, hers, ours
an honor she bestowed in her embrace that burned
like a secret between us, an oath between lovers,
brothers, sisters, strangers
no more, better because one dared
to rouse to witness and one dared to be
what she was
 
an ocean of sky. 
 

Maryrose Smyth lists her passions as: art, family and preserving a one woman artist’s preserve in the tiny canyon where she and her family live in Los Angeles where she says humor and a working blue Bic pen are her basically her only policies.