On The Mesa West Of Taos Gorge

Our coyote fence is made
of carnival mirror fragments
at slightly different angles
so the desert flies
can look as small as carbon atoms
or as large as Ferdinand the Bull.

Our yard view of the black backsides
of the carnival mirrors—
each a jagged blade of night.
Each reflecting our goats’ bleating
that drowns out the songbirds
while in afternoon rehearsal
for the twilight concert.

Our garden flowers evaporate
under the desert noontime sun
and return during the night
like a fragrant dew.

The fountain gushes
fortune cookie sayings
and lucky numbers,
but neither of us
speaks traditional Chinese.


copyright © 2018 Kenneth P. Gurney

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