By Luci Tapahonso
The cool October night, and his tall gray hat
throws sharp shadows on the ground.
Somewhere west of the black volcanoes,
dogs are barking at something no one else can see.
His voice a white cloud,
plumes of chimney smoke suspended in the dark.
Later we are dancing in the living room,
his hand warm on the small of my back.
It is music that doesn’t change.
The ground outside is frozen,
trees glisten with moon frost.
The night is a careful abandonment of other voices,
his girlfriend’s outburst brimming at the edge of the morning,
and I think I have aged so.
His warm hands and my own laugh are all we share in this other life
strung together by missing years and dry desert evenings.
Tomorrow the thin ice on black weeds will shimmer in the sun,
and the horses wait for him.
At his house around noon, thin strands of icicles drop
to the ground in silence.
Early Saturday, the appaloosa runs free near Moenkopi.
The dog yips, yips alongside.
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Friday was the hottest day of the year so far, very humid -- not my favorite weather, though at least it was bright out. I spent the morning finishing up a review of Voyager's "Blood Fever", then we all watched Pan because Adam hadn't seen it. Hugh Jackman is fun to watch but otherwise the movie is riddled with faults. On top of a horribly miscast Rooney Mara, the kid in the title role is better than the guy playing Hook!
We had dinner with my parents, then came home and watched Windtalkers, which has one of Nicolas Cage's best performances though it's a really hard movie to watch -- extremely violent and quite a few WWII cliches, not to mention the Hollywood trope of focusing on white characters in a movie that should center on people of color, but still worth watching. Here from the Arlington Arts Center is Scott Pennington's Carnival Interior:
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