The mountains here:
blue shavings, ice layers in the pale
fade of evening light
I want to taste.
The blue of air scattering around my palms.
The Northern Nevada rockface
I want to wisp through my fingers,
to feel the cool of a veined surface,
of jagged, dusty jaw incline.
A pool of hues
clasping the monuments of cloud
under silver roads
of speckled glass shimmer
iridescent wave caps
under a white desert sun.
That look of a road spine:
the way it curves
to hold up the neck of the hills.
I have had a handful of intact ideas
I want to taste,
besides stripping in some fried offshoot
of Lake Mead wilderness
and on the way to a place that will refuse
to be the same once I’ve touched it,
I’ll pick up this range of dry dust earth
at the waist
and carry it back to you.
Poem by Sara Brown
My name is Sara Brown. I received my BA in literature with a concentration in creative writing from Stockton University in December 2018. I have had my poetry and creative nonfiction recently published in Permafrost, Toho Journal, Willowdown Books, and Southwest Review. I have also recently been nominated for a Pushcart Award.