Chain Letter

I can’t find New Mexico anymore
west there’s just the Llano Estacado

in my dream airplanes vulture overhead
do you see the fighter planes going by?

this twisted road of cloud and movies
half-remembered could be x-rays winding

through our DNA tying us up in books
we don’t believe in (doesn’t mean

it isn’t happening) we take our complaints
to the bureau of broken drums, pound

the chain link fence around the reactor
it rattles with ice and meltdown

James Brush

James Brush is a teacher and writer who lives in Austin, TX. He tries to get outside as much as possible.

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