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Urban living

Here.  A place that is slipping.  A place where you hear singing.

 

I once thought this was the desert. 

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This is the desert.  You can get used to anything.

My love.

 

Say it:  My love.  My love.

 

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I couldn’t get over the grotesque body.  A baby is a beautiful thing.

It comes into this desert.  Of Joshua Trees.  A red-wing blackbird.

 

I push the furniture together.  Making space for the desert.

A coyote ran across the street.  In front of the bus.

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The passengers stared out the window.  Hands on glass.

 

The force of rain fall.  A monsoon.  Pushes dirt.

Say it.  Say it.  She told me there are

16 planes hovering in the sky.

 

Pete won’t spend a summer here.  The desert isn’t a place for a city.

 

There are baby mourning doves on our roof.

Every morning.

Coo.  Coo.  Coo.  You know.

 

Paul Sacksteder is a stay-at-home dad and teacher based in Las Vegas.  His work has appeared in a variety of places, including the Hawaii Review , Barnstorm , and Sun's Skeleton .