Desert Ironwood Monologue
Holding on to water like one heart beat left
I budget each drop by dropping some leaves like loose change.
Here, where I sit waiting to be hacked, stolen, honed, sold, held.
To be made into a portable form of possible fortune.
I, godfather to the plentitude,
I, future stump,
I, shelter to saplings,
I, mother nursing the cacti,
I, tent to rat and dove and quail,
I, nest to the homeless moon cud chewing the darkness.
Come human, you half-angel, half-monkey,
Come gather, come grind, come saw,
Come dislocate that which you will relocate in elegy.
Come cut and gather what you will fail to return,
For I am not loved, but I am needed.
Sell my hard temple to make a chair out of me
So that you can sit and look out at the pink eyed sky,
Thinking, wouldn’t it be nice to sit against me and
Listen to the arid dialogue of doves wishing
They were bulletproof in my branches, which is
A wish as public as the sky dropping seeds of light
Quietly on my branches growing pink clusters.
Jeevan Narney was born in India, but was raised in the United States. He is an MFA candidate in Creative Writing at the University of Arizona. His work has been published in Right Hand Pointing.