Death Becomes Oil, Part 3: Desert Nights

April 28, 2010 by Susan Hansell.

In the desert, to have a walled garden, in summertime, where you can sit, all night, and watch the moon set, or the bats flit, maybe eat an ice cream, or listen to the owls doves quail wrens red-headed or yellow warblers, or brush your teeth, or wait, for the news, your last pet cat growing old, then disappearing, or your husband’s mother’s cancer is back, or your own father doesn’t remember that you already know your-mother-his-wife died, four years ago, this fall, while reservations get reserved, phone calls called, appointments appointed, disappointed, hey, hey you there, see, the moon’s sinking into the buttery clouds, watch, watch yourself, watching, watching you, watching the garden, watching the walls, watching the ceiling, watching the sky, watching the moon stars planets satellites, setting, and rising, the sun, the sun.

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