We have your planet. If you want it back, gather
blue wheels of chicory flowers from the edge of the highway,
a white egret mirrored in black water at dusk, pink curves of petal
tongues from an orchid’s soft mouth, smooth cold damp. . . .
Explore related work Dorothy Cashore Lured back to the Mojave Desert by her desire to find a clear relation to place, a researcher wrestles with nightly winds that steal her belongings, and embraces the clarity of solitude.
Jane Satterfield The goldfinches arrived early. My ambition is to stroll in a superbloom, the poppies an abundance outshining my upcycled flour-sack dress.
Anne Haven McDonnell Some kinds of apocalypse / hide in pockets—rubble / blinking in the sunlight / where the glacier melted back.