Sieannen Bell

I want to still be that girl with
Cottonwood leaves caught in
The damp rope of her undeniably
Red hair while she dances so hard
The whole day stops –it just stops-
To stand brilliant and razor-edged

Around her long brown body
Writhing so close to the ground that
Her hands and hair caress the earth
She is holding onto lust, life and fire
Even as it all sifts and spills
Through her wide open fingers.

Down here in the riverbed,
A dry heat is burning my skin
To parchment and clay. I chain-
Smoke stolen cigarettes and
Mumble the words to a song I
Once heard on your pickup truck

Radio when it was tuned to only static
Except for that beat: the pound
Of dirty feet against the dust
That was rolling up in clouds
Around us, the sudden vision
Of human bodies urging the

Earth towards orgasm. The
Spirits of animals walking
Towards the dancers with
The intention of union,
Singing a song with the sound
Of wind-filled bones and

Skin drums: heartbeat/
Bodybeat in the lucidity
Of a circle filled with light.
You wearing golden feathers
And calling out to me until
I gave life to the dance and matched
The rhythm struggling to emerge
From those half-busted speakers

And I sang words as bright
And hard as the desert we drove
Across at not-so-high
Speeds taking in the stars
Like a drink, like something
We could become drunk upon.

The music making me
Lean the seat back, way
Back to where your hands
Could reach clear to
Morning up inside my long
Blue skirt, until the stars

Exploded into something
Less than fragmented
Until we were lit up
And glowing volcano-
Red in the August night.

But tonight, the world is
Darker and much less alive; you
Are long since gone and the dance
Circle is nowhere in sight. I am
Just a girl with crow feathers
In her red hair, crouching in the

Remnants of a dried up river
Alone and aching for a song,
A drink, a dance partner
And the sound of a hundred
Barefooted bodies still making
Insatiable love to the ground.