Thirst by Claire Ibarra
Thirst
On a dirt road in Death Valley
I encountered a lone coyote
We contemplated one another
Hungry from meager sand dune fare
We looked to the distant peaks
Of the mercurial Amargosa Range
In Shoshone land is Hell’s Gate
Where one can balance on Dante’s Ridge
And salt beds glisten like petrified snow
Alluvial fans are skeletons of waterways
One year back in 1929, there was
No rainfall at all, not a drop
I asked the coyote, do you rain dance?
By Claire Ibarra